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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357181">High on Our History</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodluckgettingtosleep/pseuds/goodluckgettingtosleep'>goodluckgettingtosleep</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Kissing, Angst, Anxiety, Battle of Hogwarts, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Depression, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fights, First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship/Love, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Horcrux Hunting, Humor, M/M, Mild Smut, Mind Healers (Harry Potter), Music, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Patronus Charm (Harry Potter), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Redemption, Scars, Sectumsempra (Harry Potter), Tattoos, Therapy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:33:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>72,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodluckgettingtosleep/pseuds/goodluckgettingtosleep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes a single decision can change your whole history. Sometimes a simple question and a little bit of insistence can make all the difference. Sometimes all you need is someone who thinks you deserve a second chance. </p><p>Draco nearly crumbles under the weight of the Dark Mark and the task he has been given. It’s like a constant weight on his shoulders that just would not let him breathe, would not budge, no matter how hard he tries. But there is another constant during his horrendous sixth year at Hogwarts, always around a corner, always watching: Potter. And Potter seems hellbent on saving him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Drarry</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. heavy as ever, light as a feather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wow. Okay. I can't believe I finally get to post this bad boy. I've been working on this story for the entirety of lockdown, so about two months now? I haven't actually written anything properly in a long time, but somehow quarantine not only gave me the time but also the inspiration to write this thing I've been thinking about for a long time. This is my first time delving into Drarry, as I've only been an avid reader so far, but a canon divergence Draco redemption arc by my own rules was something I was honestly dying to write. </p><p>I tried to be as sensible and realistic about the mental health issues as possible, putting emphasis on the time and resources it takes to recover. I feel like that's often glossed over in the media generally but as someone who's struggling with anxiety and depression myself I think it's important to show the path to recovery just as much as the struggle itself.  </p><p>So here we are. The fic is completely finished but in editing stages, so I'm gonna update (semi) regularly until it's all posted. I say semi only because I don't trust myself. </p><p>Also it's been a while since I last read the books and I do watch the movies more often, so the things that are canon compliant might be a bit all over the place. Apologies for that. It's best to just read it as its own story.</p><p>Big thanks and hugs go out to my amazing friend Taylor for beta-ing, and to my twitter mutuals for cheering me on. I appreciate you all. </p><p>You can also find me on <a href="https://goodluckgettingtosleep.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/powerschlumpfi">twitter</a>. </p><p>The title for this fic has been taken from a song called "Pretty Venom" by All Time Low. This fic has also been hugely inspired by their songs "Favorite Place" and "Glitter and Crimson" - so make sure to check those out as well. The chapter titles will be taken from various songs of their album "Wake Up, Sunshine" which came out last month. I'm gonna stop with the spon now lol, but I also made a short playlist for this fic, to be found here <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4xFgfUnEQlChCSyHNv2mM2?si=jpFqYP7YQi-kdwR00otfVw">on Spotify.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>Getting out of bed in the morning was getting increasingly difficult for Draco Malfoy. Most mornings he kept lying there, dozing off or staring at the ceiling, unthinking but drowning in his own misery, an invisible weight pressing down on his chest and keeping him from getting up. One tardy turned into two, and soon enough “late” was his new normal in class. He’d already lost Slytherin 10 points this week, which would have bothered him very much even just the previous year, but now he found that he couldn’t care less; just like he didn’t care about most things anymore. There was just no point to anything any longer when he was certainly going to die anyway, along with everyone he loved. Because he couldn’t live up to it; the things that were expected of him, the cruelty of it all. The Dark Lord threatening him because he could; because Draco would listen -  to try and protect his family. But he couldn’t. He was failing at the task that was given to him, just like he’d failed at everything else in his life. </p>
<p>Flashes of a rejected handshake; Potter. Years of pointless taunting and self-loathing behind closed doors. Growing up, long before he came to Hogwarts, Draco had never doubted himself; he hadn’t been raised that way. From the crib he’d been taught that he was worth more than others. Because he was a pureblood; because his family was rich; because they were wizards and possessed powers non-magical folk could only dream of. Draco had grown up without insecurities; or so he had thought. Looking back, the fear of being inferior and never quite able to live up to his father’s standards had probably followed him since childhood. Nevertheless, he had never been insecure about himself in any relation beside his father. </p>
<p>And then he’d met Harry Potter. </p>
<p>Weeks or months even before their first day at Hogwarts, Draco had imagined it all, planned it all out to the tiniest detail; how he would introduce himself to Potter, how he would befriend him, how they would both end up in Slytherin and be inseparable from that day forth. Years of childhood fantasies had been leading up to it. He’d always heard stories about Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and they’d fascinated him. His father had told him that this little boy, the same age as him, had brought down a Dark Lord many had worshipped, and his father had too. He’d defied a curse that was meant to kill him, like a hero. And from that day forth, this Dark Lord was no more, and now he was not allowed to even speak his name. He must’ve been a bad guy, Draco had thought when he was very young and couldn’t comprehend the bigotry behind his father’s statements. </p>
<p>But then he’d met Potter prematurely at Madam Malkin’s and screwed it all up with his arrogance. It had been his father’s fault, really; he’d taught Draco everything he’d said that day, and Draco had been foolish to believe that Potter would agree. The boy had been raised by Muggles after all; of course he would feel a sense of loyalty towards them, just like he would feel loyalty towards the half-giant that had picked him up from his boring Muggle-life and brought him home. But prejudice was one of the things Lucius had never had any shortages of, and he’d passed it all on to Draco at a very, very young age. </p>
<p>He hadn’t known it was Potter then, of course. He’d suspected, but the shabby clothes the boy’d been wearing had thrown him off. Surely the child-hero of the Wizarding world would be dressed more prestigious and less hand-me-down Muggle. But then he’d followed the whispers about the boy on the Hogwarts train and his world had come crashing around him for the first time in his life when he realised he’d already met Potter in Diagon Alley a few weeks prior. He’d still thought he might’ve left an impression on the boy then, foolishly continuing to present him with snooty arrogance even in the face of Weasley beating him to his offer of friendship. </p>
<p>Sometimes he thought about how different his life would be if he hadn’t messed up his one chance at befriending Potter; if they were friends. Would Draco be on the other side of the war, despite his father’s allegiances? Would Potter be on theirs? </p>
<p>No, Draco decided. Potter wouldn’t be. He was too brave, too loyal. There was no way he would ever condone the Dark Lord’s violence, or his cruelty. Not in this life, and not in another either. So Draco pictured himself on Potter’s side. Brave, loyal, smart; bringing his cold analytic Slytherin traits into the mix. And his head hurt, because he knew it was the side he <em> should </em> be on, the side he believed in when he lay awake at night and looked past all the prejudice and indoctrination his father had exposed him to all his life; when he remembered the faces of the Muggleborns the Dark Lord had forced him to torture over the summer to prove his loyalty as freshly-marked Death Eater. He’d found no joy in it, whispering apologies under his breath as he used anything short of Unforgivables to cause pain. His aunt Bellatrix had always cheered him on, trying to coax him into casting the Cruciatus curse, but Draco hadn’t managed to get it past his lips, trembling and seething and crying as Bellatrix used it on him instead. As a punishment for being so weak. Draco still had trouble breathing remembering the endless and all-consuming pain engulfing him and tearing at his insides. He’d been so sure he was going to die. All his life he’d been told he was superior, and it had only led to writhing around on the floor as his aunt cackled in delight about causing him pain while his father stood idly by. It had led to the madman he’d feared as a child coming into his house to kill and torture while he could only watch, it had led to him brandishing Draco to bind him into his reigns. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the searing pain of the mark being magically burned onto his skin, the finality of it all burning a hole into his chest. Maybe it would have been better if he had died. </p>
<p>With difficulty, Draco shook off the dark thoughts that clouded his brain again and forced himself to get up. He got dressed quickly, paying no mind to his hair. He knew it was messy; he knew he looked ridiculous, and his clothes had crinkles from where he’d discarded them on the floor the previous night. He couldn’t be bothered to spell them smooth. He couldn’t be bothered to take care of his hair either; who cared, if he was going to die soon anyway?  </p>
<p>Having missed breakfast again, Draco went straight to the potions classroom, bursting through the door right in the middle of Slughorn’s instruction monologue. Every single head in class turned towards him, and Draco felt a tingle of what could be shame or embarrassment, but it never quite bloomed into a full feeling. Shrugging, he sat down on the last free chair, right next to Potter because his life was cruel that way. He’d have to think of a way to get back at his friends for not saving him a seat somewhere far away from the git. </p>
<p>“Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn said seriously, “I was under the assumption we had a conversation about your continuous tardiness. I’m afraid I have to deduct another 5 points from Slytherin, and I shall expect you for detention tonight.” </p>
<p>Draco shrugged again, eyes glued to his potions book. He wasn’t going, anyway. </p>
<p>“Mr. Malfoy. Am I understood?” Slughorn asked, disappointment so clear in his voice it would probably be jarring if Draco found it in him to care.</p>
<p>“Sure,” Draco said finally without looking up.</p>
<p>He felt Potter’s eyes on him, judging, observing. His skin tingled, itching towards Potter’s attention just like it always had. Stupid. Potter was everywhere this year; always around, watching him like a hawk. Potter may think stealth his strength, but it wasn’t when he was following someone who’d always had a seventh sense for him anyway. Draco was used to tracking Potter, to be strangely aware of him at all times, and that hadn’t changed the way everything else had. And wasn’t it ironic that Draco finally had Potter’s attention now that he couldn’t care anymore? </p>
<p>“Malfoy! Malfoy, are you gonna— are you gonna help or not?” Potter’s voice pierced his thoughts and Draco finally looked up, accidentally meeting his stupid green eyes. </p>
<p>Ah yes, Slughorn must have finished his instructions and it appeared that Draco had the honour of working with the Golden Boy himself today. </p>
<p>Rolling his eyes out of habit more than anything else, Draco shrugged and nodded.</p>
<p>“What are we making?” he asked, careful to keep any shred of interest from his voice. Potions used to be his favourite subject but now, just like most things, it didn’t make him feel much of anything anymore. </p>
<p>“Amortentia. Haven’t you listened at all?” Potter asked incredulously. </p>
<p>If Draco had it in him to feel anything, he would’ve laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. Amortentia. Of course. Of course he would have to brew the most potent love potion of all with the one person he’d— well. It was no use thinking about that right now. </p>
<p>“Guess not,” Draco said with a shrug, carelessly flipping through his book to find the recipe.</p>
<p>“Seriously, what is <em> up </em> with you lately?” Potter hissed, “I know you’re a Death Eater now, alright, and you’re up to something but <em> this </em>— if you were anyone else I would be seriously concerned.” </p>
<p>“Well, good thing I am <em> me </em> then, isn’t it? Don’t have to wrack your precious Potty-brain about things that don’t concern you,” Draco sneered, almost cheering at how well he’d imitated his own biting tone. </p>
<p>“Nevermind,” Potter said with a roll of his eyes. Then, “And thanks for the confirmation about you being a Death Eater. Everyone said I’m bonkers but I knew I was right.” </p>
<p>Draco couldn’t help the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. Habit, maybe. Potter had always gotten to him in a way no one else could.</p>
<p>“Scared, Potter?” he said recklessly, looking down at his arm and inviting Potter to follow his gaze. When he knew he had his attention, Draco pulled up his sleeve and exposed the ugly mark he despised so much he’d done a few weak attempts at removing before. Gritting his teeth, he let Potter’s shocked hiss fuel his own self-loathing.</p>
<p>“Why are you showing me this?” Potter asked suspiciously. </p>
<p>Draco sighed. He didn’t know, really. Was he trying to scare Potter off? Was he trying to get caught so it wouldn’t just be his own inability to fix the damned cabinet that lead to his inevitable failure? Was it a cry for help? Or did he just well and truly not care anymore? </p>
<p>“Look, Potter. You wanted to know, now you know. Why don’t you go tell Dumbledore? I’m sure the old addlebrained fool will believe you that I’m just as much of a bastard as everyone always thought I was, even if your little friends don’t.” </p>
<p>Potter said something else but Draco had already shut him out as he was preparing the rose thorns for the potion. He could barely stand being in Potter’s close proximity, nevermind listen to his endless saviour-babble. All he wanted was to either punch or kiss him and neither was appropriate in potions class, so it was best to just stay away from him as much as he could.</p>
<p>“Have you shut me out again?” Potter seemed to ask, and Draco sighed dramatically.</p>
<p>“I know you can be a bit slow in the head, Potter, but it’s really not that hard to take a hint, is it?” </p>
<p>Potter narrowed his eyes at him.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he hissed, “Suit yourself then.” </p>
<p>A small part of Draco regretted not listening then; what was Potter on about? </p>
<p>“As if you care,” he muttered. </p>
<p>Potter threw the moonstone into the potion with a bit more force than necessary, making the Amortentia spill onto their desk.</p>
<p>“You’re an arse, Malfoy. Completely and utterly insufferable, and if you ask me, you deserve whatever shit is happening to you right now.” </p>
<p>Draco knew he did; and he didn’t care what Potter thought - he<em> didn’t </em>. He’d even shown him the damn mark, admittedly inadvisably, for crying out loud. Why did the snide comment still feel like a stab to his chest? And why was the sharp pain the most he’d felt all day? </p>
<p>“Well, you’re right about that,” Draco admitted, refusing to look at Potter as he stirred their potion. Taking a careful sniff of the finished Amortentia, it took him great effort to keep himself from slamming his head against the table. A mix of tea, broom oil, cheap Muggle products Draco couldn’t place, and a faint note of dust reached his nose; he same smell he could get a nose full if he turned to his left.</p>
<p>It was no news to him; he’d spend the majority of his teenage years having dreams about Potter, taking his childhood obsession with him into adolescence, and the rejection on Potter’s part was the main reason he’d openly started antagonising the Golden Boy. Getting his attention no matter the cost was another. And then there was the denial; refusing to accept that he liked boys. It was just another fuck up on the trash pile that was his life. Another complication. If his father knew, surely he would kill him himself - no need for Dark Lords. </p>
<p>Draco was about to just gather his things and leave class when he caught a glimpse of Potter staring at him wide-eyed in the corner of his eye, jaw dropped like he’d just seen a ghost. </p>
<p>“Close your mouth, Potter, unless you like the taste of flies.”</p>
<p>Potter seemed to shake himself out of it rather quickly, averting his eyes, a blush forming high on his cheeks. What in Salazar’s name had happened while Draco had zoomed out to ponder his ridiculous schoolboy crush? </p>
<p>“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Slughorn said as he approached their table, adding “Mr. Malfoy.” almost like an afterthought.</p>
<p>“I see you are finished. Very good, indeed. Let me see… yes, yes, certainly effective. Nothing like the smell of a bezoar.” </p>
<p>Draco scrunched up his nose, happy to find Potter doing just the same. He’d really had no need to find out what got the old professor going, especially not if it was something so weirdly specific if not outright disgusting. </p>
<p>“O, naturally,” Slughorn announced, though it seemed to pain him greatly to award Draco a perfect score. Well, Draco thought, there had to be advantages to working with the bloody Chosen One and he would collect them shamelessly. </p>
<p>Draco fled the room the moment it ceased getting him into trouble to do so. He was breathing heavily when he arrived at the History of Magic classroom, happily taking a seat in the far back corner and hoping he was done dealing with Potter for the day. </p>
<p>Fortunately, the git sat down towards the front next to Granger and the Weasel, though Draco could feel his suspicious glances on him when he entered the room. Somewhere in the haze of dark clouds covering his thoughts and feelings, it brought him an old, deep-rooted satisfaction to have Potter’s attention so undividedly. He could see it sometimes; Granger shaking him out of it, scolding him for not listening because he was too preoccupied watching Draco and trying to figure out what he was up to.</p>
<p>It was all it was, naturally. Draco knew that. Potter thought he was in league with the Dark Lord he tried to defeat. And yet, most of the days Potter’s attention was the only thing that kept him going, pathetic as that sounded even in his own head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>++D++</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He skipped lunch and went straight back to the Room of Hidden Things to work on the cabinet, only making a detour to the kitchens to get some apples for testing his efforts. </p>
<p>This time he didn’t feel Potter following him, but after their disastrous partnership in potions this morning, Draco couldn’t say he was surprised. Who knew what the Amortentia had smelled like for him either; maybe it had smelled like girl-Weasel and now he was off snogging her in a broom closet. </p>
<p>Shuddering at the imagery, Draco reopened the cabinet to find only the stem had made it back to Hogwarts. Great. If he was just a little braver of a person, he could claim he’d fixed the damned thing and kill at least five Death Eaters at once. </p>
<p>Scoffing at himself, Draco tried a few more spells he’d found in the library the day before, but to no avail. There was something wrong with the spell that connected the cabinet to the one at Borgin, but it was so ancient, Draco hadn’t even been able to find out what spell had been used in the first place. It was all a guessing game. Five damaged apples later he was all out of fruits and ready to die again.</p>
<p>He considered going to the library to get some homework done, but quickly decided against it. Why do homework if he was going to die anyway? He might as well hide in his bed and drown himself in his own misery. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next few days went pretty much the same; Draco was late for class, got points deducted from Slytherin, sat through his classes barely focussing and scribbling down insufficient notes, skipped lunch and spent his afternoon trying to fix the Death Eaters’ passage into the castle. Potter had started following him again, too, which was almost a relief. If Potter was still following him, it meant there was at least an ounce of a fuck left in him about whatever Draco was up to. And as much as the git annoyed him, there was always a sense of relief coming with it. Because if Potter hadn’t given up yet, maybe there was something left to fight for. That spark of relief was quickly extinguished though, when Draco only got the seeds of the apple back at the 20th attempt and proceeded to kick the cabinet so hard it tipped over and was most certainly ruined completely when it hit the floor. Cursing, Draco kicked it again and again, until his foot hurt, and his lungs ached, and he was crying so hard he couldn’t even see. Furiously wiping at his eyes, he sank down to the floor and was barely able to hold himself up as sobs rippled through his entire body. He felt weak; like his whole life was crashing and burning around him. Self-loathing mixed with self-pity and that all-consuming sense of hopelessness. </p>
<p>He wasn’t sure how long he’d stayed there crying his eyes out, but eventually his stomach started cramping with hunger, and he heaved himself up from the floor. He needed to protect his mother. And he couldn’t do it if he was starving on the floor of a hidden room in the middle of a mental breakdown. </p>
<p>With difficulty, he reached the Great Hall, just in time to see Potter talking to Katie Bell at the other end of it. Katie stared directly at him, and Potter’s head turned, and when he met Draco’s eyes, Draco knew he was done for. His life was over, no matter what now. Katie probably remembered who cursed her, and other than Potter - who had curiously failed to report his Dark Mark - she wouldn’t hesitate to turn him in. The worst thing was, Draco hadn’t even meant to hurt her. He’d been forced to do it, desperately trying to find a way to kill Dumbledore without the need for Unforgivables, and he hated himself all the more for it every day. </p>
<p>He turned on his heels and stumbled more than he walked through the castle up to the abandoned sixth floor bathroom, where he collapsed over the sink, barely able to hold himself up. He started crying again, violent sobs and dry tears because he’d used up all of them on the floor of the Room of Requirement. </p>
<p>“Draco, Draco,” Moaning Myrtle suddenly screeched above him, “My dear Draco, will you talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong.” </p>
<p>Draco gripped the edge of the sink tighter, gritting his teeth as he tried to stop the sobs from shaking his body. </p>
<p>“I can’t, alright?! I can’t do it!! I can’t fix it, and if I don’t do it soon… I will fail and he’s gonna— he’s gonna kill my family, he’s gonna kill <em> me </em>— I—“ A glance in the mirror, a pair of brilliant green eyes right behind him. </p>
<p>“Malfoy!” Potter’s voice cut through his pathetic sob story, and he turned around in an instant, wand drawn. “It was you, wasn’t it? You hexed Katie. Tell me what you’re planning,” he demanded, and Draco felt a swell of fury growing in his chest. Potter and his fucking patronising arrogance; as if he had any idea what Draco was going through. </p>
<p>“Just. Sod off, Potter,” Draco growled, gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned white. </p>
<p>“You’re a Death Eater! You think I’m just gonna let you loose in the castle doing however you please?” </p>
<p>Instead of replying, Draco sent a non-verbal spell in Potter’s direction, causing a toilet stall to explode with a loud bang and spill water all over the floor. Potter had dodged the jinx easily, sending his infamous Expelliarmus right back. But Draco was quick enough to cast a Protego, immediately followed by another stunning jinx. Potter had learned a thing or two about duelling, it seemed, because once again the spell didn’t even graze him, and Draco found himself growing increasingly frustrated. </p>
<p>“You have no idea, Potter! No idea what my life is like!” he yelled, furious. </p>
<p>“I don’t care what your life is like, Malfoy. You’re a horrible git and a coward, always hiding behind your father or your precious <em>Dark Lord</em>. Whatever he is putting on you right now, you deserve it! You took that fucking mark voluntarily, or did you not?!”</p>
<p>Draco felt like he was about to burst at the seams.</p>
<p>“Fine choice if he threatened to kill my mother right before my eyes if I don’t do it!” Draco yelled back, anger bubbling under his skin so violently, he felt like he might just explode with the force of it all. “He was mad, you know?! Because I couldn’t fucking do it!” </p>
<p>“Do wha—” Potter started, but Draco didn’t give him a chance to finish.</p>
<p>“Crucio!” he yelled half-heartedly, and it came so unexpectedly that the curse hit Potter straight in the chest. And suddenly all his anger was replaced by cold panic. Potter stared at him; seconds passing in cold silence as they both waited for something to happen. The sound of the water gushing from the destroyed toilet stall felt deafening as they stared at each other, frozen to their spots. Draco felt guilt growing in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. </p>
<p>But nothing happened. Potter didn’t collapse, he didn’t scream, he wasn’t in pain.</p>
<p>“Are you mental?!” Potter cried when he came to the same conclusion as Draco: the curse hadn’t worked. Because Draco was a fuck-up in every way imaginable. “You think Dumbledore isn’t going to notice if Unforgivables are used on school grounds?! Lousy fucking Death Eater, you are!” </p>
<p>“What— I never— But I—” Draco stuttered pathetically, still staring at Potter. Why wasn’t he in pain? Draco had been so shocked by his own actions, he hadn’t even lowered his wand yet. </p>
<p>“To quote your deranged aunt, ‘You have to mean it, Malfoy.’ Or it won’t work.” </p>
<p>“Oh,” Draco said weakly. Then, blood boiling again as he was hit by the self-loathing and guilt about what he’d just tried to do, “What do you want, Potter?! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” </p>
<p>“Like I said, Malfoy. You’re a Death Eater. You work for the lunatic that wants to kill me and everyone I care about. What kind of war would this be if I just let you do as you please around here? You lost that privilege the moment you took that mark.” </p>
<p>Draco scoffed. </p>
<p>“Why don’t you just kill me, then?” </p>
<p>Potter narrowed his eyes.</p>
<p>“To do you a favour? Nah. You’re going to live through this war just as much as I will, and you will suffer every single consequence for every single poor choice you made, you git.” </p>
<p>Draco clenched his fist at his side, slowly drawing up his wand again. He didn’t even know when he’d dropped his arm. </p>
<p>“What? You wanna Crucio me again? Go ahead, have a go, prove you’re a real Death Eater,” Potter snarled, and Draco wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen him look quite so furious and cold before. </p>
<p>His hand was shaking. <em> I’m not</em>, he wanted to say. But something about Potter’s tone, about his demeanour, made him want to defy him. Stupidly. That old childish rivalry they had; never giving in, never allowing the other to be better without a fight. Draco barely had any strength left, but he gritted his teeth and pointed his wand. <em> You have to mean it, </em> Potter had said. Well, that was the issue, wasn’t it? Draco didn’t really mean it, no matter how much he tried. He didn’t want to put Potter under that kind of pain; he didn’t want to put <em> anyone </em> under that kind of all-consuming pain. Except, maybe, the Dark Lord himself.</p>
<p>“I can’t, alright!” he yelled, deflating somewhat.</p>
<p>Potter stepped closer, wand still raised, and Draco instinctively stepped back, hitting the edge of the sink with his bum. </p>
<p>“Aw, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you became one of them.”</p>
<p>Draco didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice; and he didn’t know what Potter wanted him to say. </p>
<p>“There is this curse…,” Potter said slowly, cold venom in his voice so strong it could rival Draco’s, “I don’t know what it does. It said it was for enemies, though. Don’t make me use it on you.” </p>
<p><em> Go ahead</em>, Draco thought. <em> See if I care.  </em></p>
<p>“I’m not even doing anything, Potter!” </p>
<p>“Tell me what you’re planning,” Potter demanded, stepping closer again. </p>
<p>“I can’t,” Draco growled.</p>
<p>“Why?” </p>
<p>“Because he’s going to kill my mother,” Draco admitted, voice shaking in a way he loathed more than he loathed the boy standing in front of him. Potter paused, considering Draco carefully. Then he scoffed.</p>
<p>“Honestly, why are you even on his side? You look fucking miserable.” </p>
<p>Draco stared back at the bespectacled git, anger bubbling up in his chest again. </p>
<p>“You know nothing about me,” he sneered, “Don’t think for a second that you do. It’s all so easy for you, isn’t it? The Great Harry Potter. Born to save the world. Well, newsflash, some of us don’t have an adoring following grovelling at our feet, some of us have to see how they get by without being killed in their own home!” </p>
<p>Potter narrowed his eyes at him.</p>
<p>“You mean like my parents? You’re a privileged arsehole, Malfoy. You’re too much of a coward to make the right choice and now you’re wallowing in your own self-pity because your precious <em> Dark Lord </em> demands favours of you.”</p>
<p>Draco stared back, knowing he was about to say something cruel. Potter had pushed him too hard, and he didn’t understand, <em> couldn’t </em> understand.</p>
<p>“At least now you don’t have any parents to worry about! You don’t even know them. You’re an orphan! You have no idea what it’s like—”</p>
<p>“Sectumsempra!” </p>
<p>And then there was just pain. Draco felt his torso being sliced open, skin torn apart, his own warm blood soaking his shirt. His knees buckled, and he slid down onto the wet floor, water still gushing from the destroyed toilet stall. He felt light in the head, lighter than he had in months, the pain making him wail as he tried to clutch at his wounds with the last of his life force, but found that he couldn’t move his arms. This was worse that the Cruciatus. It was worse, because beside the pain, Draco could physically feel himself bleed out on the cold stone floor and he felt his life slip away from him in a way he never had before. Was this the end? Was he finally free? Had Potter done him the favour after all? </p>
<p>“Malfoy!” he could faintly hear Potter scream, “Malfoy! I’m sorry. Shit, fuck—”</p>
<p>And then everything faded. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. like the sun on my face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm impatient so I decided to give you chapter 2 right away. Because I can, duh. Hope you enjoy! Chapter title taken from "Favorite Place" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Draco woke, he wondered faintly why he wasn’t dead. He’d been so sure that he had died… Potter had cursed him, and his torso had been ripped open like it had been slashed by a hundred knives. He’d been bleeding; bleeding out so fast he could barely think. Now he was in the hospital wing. Saved, it appeared. Draco wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hoped with all his might that they hadn’t notified his parents. The last horrible thing he needed was the Dark Lord finding out he’d almost gotten himself killed by Harry bloody Potter himself. </p><p>“Malfoy!” the git’s voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. “You’re awake! Thank <em> Merlin</em>!” </p><p>“Potter,” Draco croaked weakly, finding him sitting on a chair next to his bed. Had he waited for him to wake up? Knowing Potter, the guilt about what he’d done was probably eating away at him just about now, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise, really. He was a Gryffindor, after all, and one with a saviour complex bigger than his head at that.</p><p> “Why didn’t you finish the job?” </p><p>“Why didn’t I— <em> Malfoy</em>, I never meant to hurt you like that, nevermind kill you! I told you I didn’t know what that spell did and you provoked me and I just… I’m <em> sorry</em>, okay? I was so sure you were dead… it was awful. I’m so sorry. <em> Fuck</em>.” </p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow, slowly feeling his strength return to his bones. </p><p>“Oh? I thought it was just about not doing me a favour?” </p><p>Potter rubbed a hand over his forehead, a brief flash of his lightning scar reminding Draco unmistakably of who he was talking to. </p><p>“I didn’t mean that. We were arguing and I just said whatever horrible thing I could think of. I was right, though, wasn’t I? You wanted to die.” </p><p>Draco averted his eyes and idly picked at the duvet someone had placed over him. He did not want to talk about this. </p><p>“Draco.” Draco’s head snapped up at the use of his given name. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Potter using it before. “Look. I can help you. I can get you out of this. But you have to talk to me. You have to tell me what Tom put you up to.” </p><p><em> Tom</em>. Draco couldn’t help shuddering at Potter’s casual use of the Dark Lord’s given name. Like he was just another bloke. But maybe that was exactly the point. </p><p>“You can’t help me,” Draco said matter-of-factly, voice void of emotion. He felt bone-deep exhaustion pulling at his insides, resignation so close to his tongue. “No one can.” </p><p>“Not if you keep being a stubborn tosser! You don’t <em> want </em> this, Malfoy, do you? You said he’s threatened you and your parents. Well, I can protect you. Dumbledore can protect you.”</p><p>Draco gritted his teeth, fists clenching his duvets. It was all so easy for Potter to say. It sounded so simple when he put it like that, Draco was almost tempted to let himself consider the prospect of changing sides, of being on the right side of history, being a hero. Someone worth Potter’s attention. But then he remembered the Dark Lord’s face, the carelessness with which he threw the killing curse around the manor and it all evaporated into a cloud of despair. </p><p>“And how might you do that, Saint Potter? Waltz into the manor like a headless <em> dimwit </em> and get my parents out? The place is crawling with Death Eaters as well as the bloody Dark Lord himself, nevermind the fact that my parents don’t actually <em> want </em> to leave. I don’t have any <em> choice</em>, when will you get that into that thick skull of yours?” </p><p>Potter grabbed Draco’s hand, unclenching it from the sheet and holding it tightly as he stared into Draco’s eyes with such intensity, Draco was afraid he might be looking straight into his soul. He pulled up his Occlumency walls, just to be safe. Draco flinched and tried to free his hand from Potter’s death grip, but to no avail. </p><p>“There is <em> always </em> a choice, Draco. I know you don’t want to do this. Whatever you’re doing. So don’t do it. Make the right choice for once in your goddamn life!” </p><p>Draco was still so thrown by Potter’s use of his first name and the fact that he was holding onto Draco’s hand, he had a hard time forming any coherent thought at all. His skin tingled just as much as it hurt, and for a moment, he let himself be drawn into the depths of Potter’s eyes that conveyed his foolish optimism. </p><p>“I—” Draco started, voice low, but was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey hustling into the room, making a whole fuss around him and shattering the moment like a pleasant dream was shattered upon waking up. And then Snape appeared, and Dumbledore, and Draco could only see Potter’s back slipping out the door along with his infinitely burning spark of hope.  </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco was allowed to leave the hospital wing that same night. Snape had used a healing spell on him that had fixed him up right away, and his body had merely needed some rest to recover - probably more from the stress than the injury. He had multiple pink scars crossing his entire torso and his upper arms now; an eternal reminder of all the poor choices he’d made, right along with the mark still gracing his left forearm. The mark now bore a fresh scar right through its middle, almost as if Potter had aimed for it. Pomfrey had seen it, he was sure. So Dumbledore knew now, but somehow the old man had only regarded him with sympathy and understanding. Why wasn’t he locked up yet? </p><p>“Draco!” Pansy called the moment he entered the Slytherin common room. She came running over to him, followed by Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle, concern visible on each of their faces. He had avoided them all over the course of the year, only speaking to them when it was necessary or when he couldn’t get away from them. He knew they would ask questions if he stayed around them for too long; questions Draco couldn’t answer. They already knew he must have received a special task from the monster living in his house, but Draco hadn’t given them a chance to ask further. </p><p>He’d always worn a mask around his friends, had never really let any of them in to see what was inside, had never allowed his own vulnerability to make itself known between them. Regardless, they’d spent six years sharing a dormitory, classes, and a common room, and they knew Draco well. Draco missed their company, he wouldn’t deny that he did. He was lonely, these days. But it was better for all their sakes if he kept his distance.</p><p>“We heard you got injured, are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Draco snapped, “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to go to bed.” </p><p>He pushed his way past them, walking fast into the direction of the boy’s dormitory. </p><p>“But—” he heard Pansy’s soft steps coming after him, “What happened? We only heard you got into a fight with Potter and—”</p><p>“Pansy. For once in your life, would you just mind your own business?” </p><p>Pansy’s face darkened; she’d never liked being left out, sticking her nose in everyone’s business. Draco knew she was dying to know where he kept sneaking away to, what task the Dark Lord had burdened him with. </p><p>“Do we have to do something to Potter? Slip him a baldness jinx or something?” </p><p>Draco sighed.</p><p>“Look. I don’t care. Just leave me alone, will you? Or shall I give the Dark Lord a hint about where your parents are hiding from him?” </p><p>It was a low blow, and Draco hated himself a little for even saying such a horrible thing. Pansy’s parents had suffered greatly at the Dark Lord’s hands, and had made the difficult decision to flee the country over the summer. Pansy had refused to accompany them; Draco suspected it had something to do with her budding relationship with Blaise. They tried to keep it secret but even Draco, distracted as he was, could see the way they seemed to be gravitating towards each other. He was glad for them; even though his bone crushing loneliness made him feel bitter sometimes when he watched them whispering in a corner. </p><p>In the matter of a second, Pansy’s expression turned furious. She gritted her teeth and stormed off, not without turning back to him halfway across the common room, spitting “Fuck you, Draco Malfoy!” at him and making all the heads in the room turn. Draco knew he deserved it. </p><p>He rolled his eyes and headed up to his dormitory, drawing the curtains around his bed and casting a locking spell as well a <em> Muffliato</em>. He just wanted the world to leave him alone for once. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Potter was even more clingy now that he felt guilty, and where his presence had been a relief before it was now slowly wearing on Draco’s nerves. Because Potter didn’t bother sneaking behind him anymore, he was just straight up joining him wherever he went. Which was extremely inconvenient considering Draco still had to try fixing the damned vanishing cabinet. Or, a voice in his head kept suggesting, he could just tell Potter about it. His initial plan had been to use the extra time he’d gotten with the sick note Pomfrey had given him to work on the cabinet, but Potter insisted to stay on his heels even if it meant missing classes, and when Draco showed up at the Room of Requirement a few days after the bathroom incident, Potter was already waiting there with breakfast and tea. </p><p>He’d then proceeded to drag Draco into the room, where a breakfast table conveniently appeared for them. Nattering on, Potter made Draco eat the entire breakfast he’d brought for him, until Draco had enough, yelled at him, and stormed out of the room. He fled into an an abandoned classroom down the hall, thinking for a moment he’d managed to lose Potter, but sure enough the git showed up just a few minutes after him. </p><p>“Am I your new charity case now?!” Draco yelled at him, frustration making him run a hand through his hair, the strands messily falling onto his forehead. </p><p>“Just because I’m sorry for hurting you doesn’t mean I just let you get away with whatever task you’ve been given now,” Potter replied calmly. </p><p>Draco groaned, considering his options. He could have Potter following him for the rest of the year, ultimately failing to fix the cabinet and being killed right along with his family. He certainly wasn’t foolish enough to doubt Potter’s persistence.</p><p>Or he could tell Potter the truth, switch sides, and maybe have a small chance of survival under Dumbledore’s protection. A chance that was even smaller for his mother, nevermind his father, but it was a chance. Put like that… </p><p>He could also hex Potter and run as fast as he could. Yeah. That sounded like the best course of action for now. It was a quickly made decision. He got his wand out in a heartbeat and stunned Potter with a quick flick of his wrist, starting to make a run for it as the git clutched his thigh. </p><p>He only got so far, though, when Potter slammed into his side, his body weight and the impact throwing Draco against the wall, where Potter trapped him, one hand next to Draco’s head, the other pressing against his chest to keep him in place. </p><p>“Merlin—” Draco gasped in surprise, ignoring the slight throbbing at the back of his head where it had collided with the wall.</p><p>“Didn’t think you had it in you, Potter,” he sneered after gathering himself for a moment.</p><p>“Oh, you know, I grew up with one hell of a Muggle bully, and I know all his tricks.” </p><p>The talk of Muggles reminded Draco that he wasn’t one and that he— well, had dropped his wand when Potter’s physical surprise attack had slammed him into the wall. Fighting like Muggles, then. Draco could do that. He thought. Probably. It couldn’t be too hard, could it? </p><p>Draco tried to push Potter back, but the bloody Gryffindor held a steady stance and wouldn’t budge. So Draco tried again, but Potter’s grip was too tight. </p><p>“Giving up yet, Malfoy?” Potter asked after Draco had - rather pathetically, he had to admit - struggled against his grip for a few minutes, and Draco reinforced his struggles with more vigour just to defy him. But the git still wouldn’t budge an inch, and Draco started feeling ridiculous flopping around like a flounder out of water so he stopped eventually, rolling his eyes. This was entirely horrible. <em> Potter </em> was horrible.</p><p>“You wish, Potter,” he sneered in that venomous tone that came so naturally to him. </p><p>But then he met Potter’s brilliantly green eyes; he was staring at him wide eyed, messy hair falling over his forehead and his glasses slightly askew from their fight. He was so close, and Draco suddenly felt too hot, skin itching to pull him even closer. Potter’s lips were slightly parted, and Draco stared, eyes quickly flickering back up when he realised what he was doing. But Potter’s gaze dropped to Draco’s lips for just a split second in return, and Draco felt something flutter deep in his stomach, hand coming up to fist Potter’s robes at his back. He was so close, and the air between them felt like an overstraining rubberband, ready to snap any minute if he wasn’t careful. </p><p> </p><p>What was happening to him? Draco felt his mind running at a hundred miles per minute and his flight instinct kicking in. He needed to get out as fast as possible. He needed to stop staring at Potter, he needed to fix the cabinet and— </p><p>His racing mind was abruptly brought to a halt when his lips collided with another soft, warm pair. He didn’t know who started it, but suddenly they were standing there pressed against a wall in an abandoned classroom and… kissing. </p><p>Panic rose in Draco’s chest and he waited to be slapped, any second now… </p><p> </p><p>But the second never came. </p><p> </p><p>Potter kissed him back. <em> What?  </em></p><p>It was an angry kiss; there was nothing gentle about it. And yet Draco felt his head spinning, unable to process that Potter was actually—</p><p>He felt Potter’s hand grabbing the fabric of his jumper around his waist, and Draco used the newly won freedom on one side to push him away. </p><p>Potter’s pupils were blown, his hair even more tousled than before, cheeks pink, lips slightly swollen and glistening from being kissed. <em> Fuck</em>, Draco thought. </p><p>And he couldn’t explain it, but the sight of the git somehow shut off all of Draco’s remaining reason, and he grabbed the front of his robes to pull him close again, crashing their lips back together. This time Draco was doing the pushing and pulling, biting Potter’s lower lip and drawing him back with such force their teeth clacked together. But once again, Potter <em> kissed back </em>, and Draco hated him. He hated him because he had dreamed of this ever since he wished to kiss anyone at all and now that his life was basically over, there he was, kissing Draco like he actually wanted him. </p><p>This time, however, it was Potter who pushed himself away, eyes wild and confused. He breathed heavily, his eyes flickering over Draco’s face like something had startled him and he couldn’t figure out what it was; like it was the first time he saw Draco, wonder and suspicion playing on his face in turns. Draco bit his lower lip, panting, unable to register the fact that he’d just kissed <em> Harry Potter </em> and completely overwhelmed by the way the shoddy git <em> looked </em>, all debauched and dishevelled. He didn’t get a chance to regain his bearings before Potter angrily crashed his lips back against his.</p><p>He growled against Potter’s mouth.</p><p>“I fucking hate you,” he sneered in a low, venomous voice, and it earned him a bite and a slam back against the wall. </p><p>“Not nearly as much as I hate you,” Potter hissed back between angry kisses, “You’re an arrogant bully, a truly despicable human- no sorry,” Potter pulled away, eyes travelling from Draco’s lips up to his eyes, “<em>Death Eater</em>.” </p><p>Somehow, the title served to sober Draco up. What was he doing? Was Potter trying to make fun of him? Did he somehow find out about Draco’s inclinations? Was he taking pity on him? </p><p>“Why are you doing this?” Draco asked, “You think this is funny?” </p><p>Potter ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, looking into a far corner of the room, as if he had trouble composing himself and there was something there that could help him. </p><p>“You know, Malfoy, I could ask you the same question.” </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes, an unhappy sound escaping his lips.</p><p>“Fucking Gryffindor,” he muttered, about to slide away from Potter and flee somewhere distinctly Potter-less, but Potter pushed him back against the wall.</p><p>“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.</p><p>“Away from you.” </p><p>“I don’t think so,” Potter said seriously, hands on Draco’s chest keeping him firmly in place again. </p><p>Draco’s heart was racing, and he still felt so hot -  like his skin was on fire and the intensity of it was slowly making him dizzy. Was he dreaming? Potter had<em> kissed </em>him; surely that meant he must’ve fallen asleep somewhere and was making this all up. He’d had enough daydreams about sharing angry kisses with Potter over the years after all. It just served to set off all the alarms in Draco’s head, and he made another weak attempt at fleeing the scene.</p><p>“What do you want?” Draco asked with a sigh, slumping back against the wall, somewhat defeated.</p><p>Potter clenched his jaw, eyes focussed on Draco’s. His gaze was so intense Draco almost squirmed under it. </p><p>“You keep asking that. And the answer remains the same; I need to know what you’re up to.”</p><p>Draco closed his eyes. He was so tired of it all. He didn’t want to fix the cabinet. He didn’t want to kill Dumbledore; he wasn’t even sure that he could. He couldn’t even Crucio Potter, after all. He was doomed, no matter what he did, and Potter might just be the only hope he had left - even if it meant abandoning his pride in a ditch. He was going to regret this. </p><p>“Alright,” he said quietly, resigned, “Alright. I hate everything about this, and don’t think for a second that I’m doing it to become one of your wannabe heroic <em> minions </em> or because I’m suddenly inclined to <em> do the right thing</em>.” Draco rolled his eyes, lips curling in disdain. “I’m going to tell you. But you have to promise that my mother will be protected. That we find a way to get her out.” <em> We</em>. Draco shuddered. He didn’t think he and Potter had ever been a <em> we </em> before.</p><p>The surprise in Potter’s eyes almost made Draco pull him back into another snog. It was absolutely horrible. What did he have to be so damn attractive for anyway? </p><p>“Yeah, yeah of course, Malfoy. If you <em> do the right thing</em>…” Potter narrowed his eyes, looking faintly amused at his deliberate use of Draco’s own words. “If you join us… Dumbledore can help you and your Mum. He’ll protect you. It’s not too late, you know?” </p><p>Draco nodded. He wasn’t so sure and he detested all the few choices he had, but it was the best shot he had left and looking at Potter’s dishevelled appearance, the phantom of his lips still on Draco’s… well, fuck him, but maybe Potter would be worth the risk. </p><p>Draco took a deep breath. </p><p>“The Dark Lord, he… Well, he made me take the mark as a punishment for my father’s failings at the ministry last year. And to prove my loyalty, he wants me to fix a vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. So a bunch of Death Eaters can get into Hogwarts undetected. And then he wants me… he wants me to kill Dumbledore.” </p><p>Draco swallowed hard. He didn’t dare looking at Potter. He’d been looking up into the corner of the room Potter had consulted earlier for the entirety of his speech, afraid of what he might find on Potter’s face. </p><p>“Fucking bastard,” Potter muttered, and Draco felt his heart clench. What if Potter told him now that it had all been a bluff and he wouldn’t help him after all? Was that why he’d kissed him, too? To make him talk? “I can’t believe he would force a 16-year-old to try and kill Dumbledore! Dumbledore, of all people! Only one of the most powerful wizards alive. And you— you couldn’t even cast a Cruciatus, how did you think you’d manage to kill him?”</p><p>“I—,” Draco choked out, “I didn’t, really. The necklace… I didn’t mean to harm Bell. It was a foolish attempt to get around the killing curse. I didn’t think about it that much. I tried to focus on the cabinet, but I ruined it and—” With absolute horror, he felt tears springing to his eyes, his throat feeling tight. He was <em> not </em> going to cry in front of Potter of all people. “I don’t want to kill anyone, Potter,” he said, finally meeting Potter’s eyes. </p><p>“It’s… It’s okay, Malfoy.” Potter reached out to pat Draco’s shoulder in a gesture that was more awkward than comforting, but Draco strangely found that he appreciated it. “You don’t have to. You… You’ll be okay, now.” </p><p>Draco furiously wiped at his eyes, mortified by looking so weak in front of the bloody Scarhead, bane of his pathetic existence.</p><p>“How can you know that?” </p><p>There was a small, weary smile tugging at Potter’s lips. </p><p>“Because you <em>did the right thing</em>.” </p><p>They kept standing there looking at each other for several moments, a loaded sort of tension between them that Draco couldn’t quite place, before Potter turned on his heel. “Alright. I’m gonna go talk to Dumbledore, and you should come. Let’s make this right.” </p><p>Draco stayed leaning against the wall for another moment, looking at Potter’s retreating back. </p><p>“Potter!” he called. He just had to know. “Did you… did you only kiss me to get me to talk?” </p><p>Potter turned around, and Draco was surprised to find a weirdly confident smirk on his lips.</p><p>“I wish,” he said, making the few steps back to Draco, grabbing his collar and promptly kissing him again, much more gentle this time, “That would be the much easier explanation, wouldn’t it?” </p><p>He pulled away, and Draco stared at him. </p><p>“When did you become so confident?” Draco asked suspiciously. Was this even Potter or had someone decided to make fun of him using Polyjuice potion? </p><p>“I’m not, really,” Potter said with a sigh, averting his eyes, “I’m just faking it because you drive me insane, <em> Malfoy</em>, and you always have. Did you know Hermione and Ron think I’m ‘obsessed’ with you? Imagine that. Anyway… I mean it, though. I don’t know why I did it. But it wasn’t just to get you to talk.” </p><p>Draco’s heart was beating unsteadily at Potter’s words; he believed him, somehow. But in the midst of everything that was going on, it was hard to hold onto any clear thought at all, so Draco decided to think it all over at a later time.</p><p>Potter reached out and grabbed Draco’s hand. Draco was too startled to pull away.</p><p>“Come on, we got a lunatic to defeat.” </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>As Draco soon found out, switching sides came with a whole set of advantages - as well as several misgivings. </p><p>Weasley was no fan of him at all, which surprised Draco so little he didn’t even think about it. He’d, albeit a little reluctantly, apologised for every horrible thing he’d said to him over the years anyway. He knew Potter would appreciate the gesture and Weasley <em> was </em> a pureblood after all. It wasn’t his fault that his family was big and poor. Granger, on the other hand, was strangely friendly and conciliatory, especially after Draco had apologised to her, too. And he slowly came to appreciate her wit and intelligence. His father had always pit him against her; pushing him to be better than “that mudblood” and when Draco couldn’t, he’d resented her for it. But he knew better now, and he could see how hard she was working. It was still difficult to shake his father’s indoctrination, but he’d started questioning his reasons and the logic behind his views after Granger had given him a rather lengthy lecture about what the Muggles called racism, and he was understanding them less and less the more he thought about it. </p><p>Potter was avoiding him. Or at least that’s how it felt now that he’d stopped following him around. Draco didn’t know what he’d expected. They weren’t friends, and Potter had told him he didn’t know why he’d kissed him. Maybe he was ashamed of himself now; maybe he regretted it. Or maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t sure how to act around him, which was a sentiment Draco could relate to.</p><p> </p><p>With Dumbledore, they’d decided that Draco should act like nothing had changed as much as he could manage. It was best not to draw any suspicions at this point, to protect Draco’s mother if nothing else. Dumbledore had fixed the vanishing cabinet for him, much to Potter’s dismay. The Gryffindor had protested loudly when Dumbledore presented his plan to them, but there was no defying the old man. And for once, Draco was grateful. He’d sent a letter to his parents informing them of his success, and for the first time in months, he could finally breathe again. He was no fool; he knew this was far from over. But the sense of imminent doom had been pushed back a little so it was no longer pressing down on Draco’s chest and making it hard to breathe. </p><p>He told Pansy, Blaise, and the others that he’d finally succeeded in his task given by the Dark Lord as an explanation for his change of mood and why he was no longer looking like death on two feet. Pansy was still furious with him, and Blaise by proxy, and Crabbe and Goyle had taken to following them around rather than him, so the conversation had been more awkward than necessary when Blaise cornered him one day asking about “the spring in his step” when Pansy was still hurting because of him. So he apologised to Pansy. It was the right thing to do, he knew, and they all eyed him suspiciously as a result. He’d never really been one for apologies and he felt faintly disgusted with himself, really. Maybe the Gryffindors were already rubbing off on him. He’d certainly distributed way too many apologies as of late. He still declined his friends’ offer to sneak out to Hogsmeade together on the weekend, explaining that he still had other things on his mind. </p><p>Which wasn’t a lie. There was still the plan, the burden of being a double agent, essentially, and, well, Potter. </p><p>As much as he would like to, Draco couldn’t forget the angry kisses they had shared, the pushing and pulling, the small bites and shallow breaths. Much less could he forget the <em>sickeningly</em> gentle kiss Potter had pressed against his lips just before they’d gone to see Dumbledore. Years and years of pathetic, secret pining and now… Draco wasn’t sure, now. He’d never thought Potter would ever return any of his messed up feelings, much less act on them. But kissing Potter had felt good; it had felt right. He still couldn’t stand the git most of the time, his infuriating self righteousness and his hopeless saviour complex, the way people kissed the ground he was walking on simply because he was <em> Harry Potter. </em> But he couldn’t help wanting to kiss him anyway. It had always been like that; despising Potter while admiring him. Picking on him while wanting to pull him close, insulting him while wishing he could offer his friendship again, resenting him while wanting nothing more than his favour. And all of those feelings were <em> there</em>, he wasn’t imagining them. They were intense, too. Draco didn’t think there was any other person he’d ever felt so intensely about, especially not for such a big part of his childhood and well into his teens. </p><p>Potter was the reason Draco had to admit to himself that he liked boys, eventually. It had been a difficult process for him, and some days he was still struggling with the burden of knowing who he was but being unable to share it with anyone. His father wouldn’t have it, he was sure. And he didn’t know about his friends - apart from Blaise, who’d never made a secret of his bisexuality - but he’d heard Crabbe and Goyle talk about homosexuals before, and there hadn’t been anything kind about it. Some days it was hard to be kind to himself, but he knew if he didn’t even try to accept himself - how could he ever expect others to? </p><p>He hadn’t really thought about it for a long time. He’d assumed he was going to die anyway, that there was no way he would survive the war, and what point was there in worrying about a future that would likely never come? He still wasn’t sure now, so he avoided picturing a future after the Dark Lord, knowing it would break his heart no matter the outcome. </p><p>Shaking the onslaught of thoughts clouding his mind, Draco tried to focus back on the History of Magic lesson he was currently missing - but his eyes quickly landed on the back of Potter’s head. His hair was sticking out in every direction again, and Draco could swear there was a stain on the back of his robes. He was a hopeless slob, and Draco would love to give him a good fixing up, but at the same time he found strange liking in Potter’s messy appearance. In many ways, he was the exact opposite of him. Maybe that was why he felt so drawn to him? </p><p>“Hey, Scarhead,” he said after the lesson when Potter and his friends walked past him.</p><p>Potter stopped and narrowed his eyes at him, suspicion so very clear on his face.</p><p>“What’s up, Malfoy?” </p><p>Draco stepped closer, conspiratorially lowering his voice. </p><p>“Oh, I missed this,” he said, then, louder, “You got a stain on your robes, did you know? You’d think everyone’s bloody Golden Boy should be able to get his own robes cleaned.” </p><p>Potter rolled his eyes, but glanced around his robes anyway. “Ever heard of <em> Scourgify </em>? It does wonders. But I guess you think you’re above the simplest spell work, don’t you?” </p><p>“You’re an arse, Malfoy. Just leave me alone,” he spat and stormed off, leaving Draco satisfied with a lingering underlying sense of worry. He was always afraid to get on Potter’s bad side again; that he would do something to scare him off and leave Draco alone on a battlefield. But they’d agreed to keep up appearances, and it was just too much fun to taunt him, to see the anger flaring in his eyes. He’d always found exceptional pleasure in riling Potter up.</p><p>Painting on a venomous smirk, Draco shouldered his bag and turned away from where he knew Pansy was waiting for him to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction towards the staircase. He knew Pansy would expect him to go on a whole rant about the bloody Gryffindor, and Draco really didn’t have the energy for it. For once, Potter hadn’t really done anything he could passionately rant about. He could, however, wax poetry about the way his lips had felt against his, and how he’d tasted. It was <em> horrendous</em>.</p><p>He turned a corner and almost peed his trousers when a hand shot out from behind a tapestry and pulled him into an alcove. Before he could even begin to process what was happening, he was shoved against the back wall and then there was the delicious pair of lips he’d just thought about pressing against his. </p><p>“What the fuck—” Draco managed to hiss between kisses, “Potter—”</p><p>“Shut up, Malfoy,” Potter murmured, biting down onto Draco’s lower lip. Draco almost moaned when he soothed the slight sting with a swipe of his tongue and then licked into his mouth, kissing him deeply. </p><p>It wasn’t gentle, exactly, but it wasn’t fuelled by anger either. It was like a challenge, like  six years of rivalry leading up to this - almost like it had been inevitable, the only thinkable outcome of every snide comment, of every tripping hex, every insult. Instead of hexing each other, they let their mouths do the squabbling. </p><p>Suddenly there was a hand slipping beneath his jumper, cold fingers finding their way up his torso, brushing the fresh scars there.</p><p>And just like that, Potter seemed to deflate. He stopped kissing Draco, pulled away a little and let his head drop onto Draco’s shoulder. Potter’s hand was now resting over the scar on his abdomen, thumb brushing light circles over it and making Draco shiver. </p><p>“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Potter,” Draco said, but wrapped his arms around the git’s waist anyway. </p><p>“I’m not,” Potter told him, “I’m feeling sorry for <em> you</em>.”</p><p>Draco snorted.</p><p>“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better. Just the thing every guy likes to hear.” </p><p>“That’s not—” Potter sighed, “That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry I used that spell on you when I didn’t know what it did. I always have this notion of myself… that I’m on the good side. That I’m <em> better</em>. But I’m not, am I? I almost killed you.” </p><p>“How many times shall I expect you to apologise for this? Because frankly, Potter, I’ve already lost count and it’s becoming increasingly boring. I told you I’m not blaming you, what more do you want?” </p><p>“I don’t know.” Potter let his hand slip away from Draco’s scar and wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck instead. “I don’t know what I want.” </p><p>Draco hugged Potter like his life depended on it. And the best part was that <em> Potter hugged him back </em> just as tight. The kissing was nice, <em> great </em> even, but <em> this</em>. Somehow their hug felt more intimate than anything they’d ever shared before. It felt close, and vulnerable, and Draco didn’t know if he’d ever been hugged like that before. Probably not. He hadn’t really received any hugs growing up, and if he had, they’d been stiff and awkward. He breathed in Potter’s scent, and for a few minutes he let himself sink into the comfort he was given. </p><p>“How did we end up here?” Potter asked eventually and pulled away from him, hands still resting on Draco’s shoulders. He met his eyes in the dimly lit alcove. </p><p>Draco almost laughed. He asked himself every night how and why exactly things had turned around so drastically for him.</p><p>“What, in an alcove behind a tapestry? Pretty sure you were the one who dragged me back here, Potter,” Draco said.</p><p>Potter slapped his shoulder and laughed ridiculously, making Draco feel almost proud of his lame joke. There was a fluttering sensation somewhere deep in his chest, his heart clenching with the sheer force of <em> stupid </em> affection he was hit with. </p><p>“Funny,” he said, still grinning dumbly, and leaned up to press another kiss to Draco’s lips. “Guess I’m gonna have to figure it out by myself, huh, smartass?” </p><p>“Figure out what, exactly?” Draco asked with a smirk. Teasing Potter came as easy to him as breathing. Just as easy as not having any of it came to Potter. They’d had six years of practice, after all. </p><p>He narrowed his eyes at him. </p><p>“<em>You</em>,” he said, and then he turned to leave in an uncharacteristically smooth movement… until one of his legs got caught in the tapestry and he tumbled to the floor. </p><p>Draco quickly checked the hallway before coming after him, clutching his stomach as he laughed. </p><p>“Well, well, Potter. You came <em> this </em> close to being graceful for once in your life. But coordination of your limbs has never really been your strong suit, has it?” </p><p>Potter glared up at him, glasses hanging on the tip of his nose.</p><p>“Are you just gonna stand there making fun of me or are you gonna help me up?” </p><p>Draco pretended to have a serious think, before shrugging and not making any move towards Potter’s aid.</p><p>“Touching your dirty robes?” He scrunched up his nose. “Nah, don’t think I can.”</p><p>“Well you had no qualms about it two minutes ago when you got something out of it,” Potter complained and Draco laughed again, feeling it right down to his toes, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. </p><p>Clutching his stomach with one hand, Draco leaned down to offer Potter the other. </p><p>And when Potter took it, a glare in his eyes and a grin tugging at his lips, Draco almost felt like he was 11 again, but this time there was no rejection. This time, there was a second chance. </p><p>Draco pulled Potter back to his feet and they walked down the hall together. And if the portraits started whispering because the sight was something the walls of Hogwarts had never witnessed before, well, then that was just as fine. </p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. touched the flames and burned down everything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short but intense one today, one might say. The chapter title is taken from "Favorite Place" by All Time Low. Thanks for the love so far, I really appreciate it!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the weeks went on, things eventually turned to shit again and Draco hated himself for not seeing it coming. It had all been too good, too much in Draco’s favour.</p><p>Draco was still playing double agent, providing his parents with selected information and keeping up facades for his fellow Slytherins, while spending hours studying with Granger in secret and listening to her complaining about Weasley. He also kept kissing Potter, occasionally. Sometimes they would pull each other behind curtains or tapestries, into dark hallways or abandoned classrooms. He didn’t really understand it, and neither seemed Potter, but every fight they had, every disagreement, all their bickering in the hallway - somehow it always led to them kissing now, touching, as if there was an invisible force between them pulling them together and making it impossible to resist now that they’d had a taste. There were roaming hands and heated mouths, angry bites and gentle tongues, and it was everything Draco could wish for, more than he’d ever dreamed of. All things considered, life was going surprisingly smooth for awhile. </p><p>Until it wasn’t. </p><p>Draco got notice from his parents about when the Death Eaters planned to sneak into Hogwarts, and Dumbledore explained his plan to Draco. A plan that Draco didn’t like at all. There was something about it that didn’t feel quite right, a sense of doom Draco couldn’t really explain. But when he voiced his worries towards their headmaster, the old fool just brushed him off like Draco was merely a child with a vivid imagination. </p><p>He was supposed to trap Dumbledore on the astronomy tower upon his return to the castle, he was supposed to point his wand, to threaten him, but ultimately fail to kill him. The Death Eaters had to see him try, though, to keep him safe. And then Dumbledore would deal with the Death Eaters. </p><p>Draco hated the plan, could only see its flaws, and so did Potter. </p><p>“He’s going to kill me if I have you at wand point and still fail to kill you!” Draco protested. “It doesn’t matter if they see me try.” </p><p>The old man merely looked at him with old, tired eyes and a gentle smile on his lips.</p><p>“You have to trust me, Draco,” he said ominously. Draco didn’t, really.</p><p>But neither of them could think of any alternatives, so when Dumbledore and Potter returned from some very important field trip, the plan went into action. </p><p>Things went exactly to plan, down to Draco’s acting - one memory of the previous summer was enough to reduce Draco to frantic tears still - but then suddenly they didn’t.</p><p>Because suddenly Snape had Dumbledore’s wand, the one Draco had taken from him, and suddenly he was pointing it at the headmaster, and then there was green light, a cackling Bellatrix, and the lifeless body of Albus Dumbledore falling off the astronomy tower. </p><p>Draco choked, throat tight as shock weaved through him, tears welling up in his eyes as he sank to the floor. He’d failed. Dumbledore had put his trust in him, and he’d failed. Hell, Draco had trusted <em> him. </em> The old fool had <em> promised </em>everything would be okay! And now there was no one stopping the Dark Lord, no one protecting him from his wrath, now it was all gone and Draco was dying again, foolish to ever believe there could be another ending for him. He almost tripped as he hastily ran down the stairs, away from his aunt’s manic laughter and Snape’s betrayal. He didn’t know where he went, or how long he ran, but he navigated Hogwarts blindly, tears clouding his sight as he struggled to breathe. And then there was a force slamming him into a wall, and Potter was right in front of him, shaking. </p><p>“I TRUSTED YOU!” Potter yelled, and Draco felt something break inside him, “<em>HE </em> TRUSTED YOU! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?” </p><p>“I— I didn’t— I— it was Snape, he— I didn’t know, Potter, you have to believe me, <em> please</em>,” Draco stammered rather pathetically, tears flowing from his eyes like he had an endless supply of them. He hated that this was his life.</p><p>“HOW CAN I BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T PLAN THIS FROM THE START?! YOU COULDN’T FIX THE CABINET YOURSELF SO YOU FOUND ANOTHER WAY!” </p><p>Potter had his forearm firmly pressed against Draco’s chest, his wand pointing sharply into his chin. Disappointment flared weakly in Draco’s chest, along with a sense of betrayal. </p><p>“So you never trusted me at all, did you?” Draco sneered back, voice shaky. He was still crying, and he hated the fact that it was audible when he spoke. </p><p>“Why would I?” Potter asked cruelly, and Draco thought it was fair enough. They’d never been friends before, after all.</p><p>“I didn’t do it, I swear to Merlin, Potter. I didn’t want this to happen.” </p><p>“Why don’t you tell that to your father? I bet he’s so proud of you.”  </p><p>Potter didn’t even make sense. He was blinded by grief and fury, lashing out at the one person there was to blame.</p><p>“I didn’t—” Draco was about to jump to his own defence again but he could see in Potter’s eyes that it was no use. “I know you don’t believe me right now, Potter, but I did everything Dumbledore asked of me. Now I’m all alone again, my mother… I am scared, alright? I didn’t betray you. I didn’t kill Dumbledore. <em> Snape </em> did.” There was a bite in his tearful voice that Draco didn’t know he had still in him. Especially now that everything was lost. Making Harry believe in him was the only thing he had left, the only hope. </p><p>“Well your history doesn’t exactly speak in your favour now, does it, Malfoy?” </p><p>Draco took a deep breath, trying to swallow the rising panic in his chest. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to win Potter around this time. He was too upset; too wrapped up in grief to see the truth. </p><p>“No. But this does,” he said, using all the strength he had left to push Potter back far enough so he could kiss him. It was angry and desperate and for a moment Potter kissed back just as angrily. Draco thought maybe things would be okay after all, but then Potter pushed him away so hard, Draco’s head painfully collided with the wall. </p><p>“Stay away from me, Death Eater scum,” Potter growled, and then he was gone and Draco sank to the floor, crying. He felt dizzy from hitting his head, and the world was closing in on him, threatening to swallow him whole. </p><p>Things took a turn for the worse yet again when his deranged aunt found him like that and cackled, sending a bunch of nasty jinxes his way as a punishment for being so weak.</p><p>Draco didn’t care. </p><p>He felt nothing, and he wasn’t sure he ever would again. He barely noticed Bellatrix taking him to the manor, barely noticed the stunning jinxes and even the Crucio sent his way, enduring it all with deep rooted resignation, a certain kind of numbness that hurt more than all physical pain ever could. He’d lost. And it was his own goddamn fault. </p><p> </p><p>++H++</p><p> </p><p>Harry felt bad the moment he turned the corner, but then he remembered that Dumbledore was dead and he gritted his teeth, keeping on stomping down the hallway. He needed to find Ron and Hermione. </p><p>He thought about everything Malfoy had said and done over the last few months, every admission, every kiss, every damn look in his eyes. The way he’d looked all those months leading up to the bathroom incident, how he’d hoped Harry would kill him. How depressed he’d been, how skinny because he hadn’t eaten well. His features filling in a little over the past couple of weeks, the return of his smile, the endless discussions he’d had with Hermione in the library and how pleased Hermione had been at the presence of someone who could actually keep up with her academically. The way his eyes had turned infinitesimally softer when he threw verbal barbs at him in the hallway. The betrayal and resignation in his eyes just now when Harry had called him <em> Death Eater scum</em>. He’d been fuelled by grief, irrationally lashing out at someone who hadn’t really done anything wrong. Harry could see that; but sometimes it was easier to hand out blame instead of facing the truth regardless. </p><p>He stopped in his tracks, chest feeling tight with guilt as he turned around to run back to where he’d left Malfoy behind, to tell him how sorry he was and that he knew he hadn’t meant for Dumbledore to die. That he would still help him, that they could do it together, that everything would turn out okay. </p><p>But Malfoy was gone.</p><p> </p><p>“Bellatrix must’ve taken him,” Harry told Hermione a few days later. Malfoy hadn’t shown up at school again, and he’d overhead his Slytherin friends saying that he’d gone home to the manor now that he’d finished his task. It was no secret that his parents were in league with Voldemort, even though few knew that Malfoy himself had also taken the mark. And nobody but Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew that he’d taken it involuntarily, that he didn’t have a choice. Nobody but them knew that he’d done the right thing in the end, that he’d switched loyalties and tried to save Dumbledore. </p><p>But Harry had betrayed him, hadn’t trusted him after everything they’d shared, and now he could only hope that Draco was okay. That the Death Eaters hadn’t done anything to hurt him, and that he hadn’t done anything to hurt himself. </p><p>“Harry, you’ve got to stop blaming yourself,” Hermione told him as they were standing on the astronomy tower, looking out over the lands of Hogwarts as the sun was starting to set. </p><p>“I can’t. It was awful, Hermione. I called him <em> Death Eater scum</em>. You should’ve seen his face. He didn’t deserve that. And now he’s all alone with a maniac and his deranged aunt and parents that dragged him into this whole mess in the first place!” </p><p>Hermione bit her lip, nodding. </p><p>“I get that. And I’m scared for him, too, but you beating yourself up over a moment of weakness doesn’t help him, Harry. Defeating Voldemort does. And we will. Somehow, we will. We will find those Horcruxes.” </p><p>“And how do you think we’ll do that?! Dumbledore is dead! We don’t know anything! It’s like finding a snitch in a field that’s as big as England!” </p><p>“Well, you won’t be doing it alone, for a start,” Hermione said and turned around to where Ron was sitting on a couple of stairs, being uncharacteristically quiet. He nodded in agreement and Hermione turned back to Harry, eyes warm and reassuring.</p><p>“You realise we won’t be able to come back,” Harry told her, facing the horizon. </p><p>“No offence, Harry, but do you really think I value my education more than the freedom of our world? The lives of so many? If Voldemort takes control over the school I won’t be able to come back regardless. You really are so thick sometimes,” she added with a small smile.</p><p>Harry shrugged and sighed. His mind wandered back to Draco. He couldn’t stop the dread that filled his guts when he thought about what they might do to him. </p><p>“Evidently.” </p><p>“Maybe you should spend less time worrying about the git,” Ron finally spoke up, making Harry and Hermione turn towards him, “How do you know it wasn’t exactly as you accused him of? It’s <em> Malfoy </em> we’re talking about here. I’m sure You-Know-Who wouldn’t harm a hair on his <em> Sacred 28 </em> head.”</p><p>“I just know, Ron, okay?” Harry snapped. “You haven’t seen his face. You don’t know him like I do. And I assure you, I’ve seen Voldemort do worse than harm purebloods.” </p><p>Ron walked over to him, looking somewhat deflated. </p><p>“Ginny asked about you, you know? She said you’ve been avoiding her.” </p><p>Harry sighed. He hadn’t told his friends about the frenzied kisses he’d shared with Malfoy, hadn’t even told them about the terrifying epiphany he’d had about his sexuality as a result. It was true that Harry had thought maybe he and Ginny could get somewhere, some day. But now whenever he tried picturing a future with her, he felt Draco’s warm lips like a phantom on his, had his lingering clean smell of fresh apples and something inherently <em> Draco </em> in his nose, and there was a twinge in his gut that he couldn’t shake. Maybe it made sense, even if it didn’t seem to. He and Draco had always been obsessed with each other, had always been aware of the other in some capacity. There had always been something <em> there </em> , even when they’d thrown insults and punches at each other. Harry couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t even sure he <em> liked </em> Draco that much, not really, but somehow, still, he did. He didn’t like the bully Malfoy, the spoiled prat that called Hermione derogatory names and broke his nose on a train. But he liked the Draco he’d seen in the last few months, the one he’d always suspected to be there somewhere under his prickly exterior, the person he’d become. </p><p>“I just have other things on my mind right now, Ron.” </p><p>“Yeah. <em> Malfoy</em>,” Ron said with no small amount of irritation. Harry sighed. </p><p>Hermione whacked Ron’s arm, eyebrows high on her forehead as she shot Ron a knowledgeable look.</p><p>“We’ve talked about his, Ron. Let it go.”</p><p>Ron raised his hands in surrender and Harry shook his head, feeling so bone deep tired.</p><p>“We’re friends, Ginny and I. Nothing will change that,” he said, leaving it hanging there, double meaning and all. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco only left his room when it was asked of him. The Dark Lord was still residing at the manor, and he had no sympathy for Draco’s failings. The first week had been the worst of Draco’s life. He’d been put alternately under Cruciatus and Imperius, being tortured or forced to do the torturing himself. The Dark Lord found joy in his misery, always had a good laugh at his tears and the way his limbs kept shaking. Draco thought his tears should’ve dried up by now, but he seemed to have an endless supply of them these days. </p><p>He listened, though. He always listened when they mentioned Potter’s name, scrambling for every scrap of information about his safety. Potter might not care about him, might not believe in him, but that didn’t mean Draco gave up on him in return. Potter was still the only hope he had left, the only way out. </p><p>Draco was mad at him; of course he was. After all the grief and desperation had faded some, there was room for the anger. After everything they’d shared over the few months between the bathroom incident and the astronomy tower, Draco had been so sure they were a team now, that they were slowly but surely becoming friends. But Potter hadn’t trusted him all along and pushed him away the moment that trust had been challenged. </p><p>He didn’t understand. Potter had <em> kissed </em> him! He’d touched the scars he’d put on his body, he’d trailed them with soft kisses one night when they’d met up in an abandoned classroom - just a few days before the astronomy tower. Draco wanted to believe it had all been physical between them, but then he remembered the gentleness and the look in Potter’s eyes, and his heart broke all over again. He hated himself for caring so much. He was a disgrace to everything his father had ever taught him. </p><p>“Maybe if you stopped daydreaming, you’d finally manage to do what the Dark Lord asks of you without the need of the Imperius,” his father said the moment Draco thought of him and he sat up in bed with a start, trembling in anticipation of what horrors the Dark Lord had planned for him today. </p><p>“I’m not like you, father,” Draco said weakly. He was just so tired.</p><p>Lucius snorted.</p><p>“Evidently. It appears I have raised a <em> wuss</em>. Do you realise how displeased the Dark Lord is with us? You should be on your knees grovelling for his favour, instead you’re crying in bed all day like a… a <em> wimp</em>.” </p><p>Draco closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten in his head in an attempt to calm himself down. </p><p>When he opened them again he looked down on his bruised, bare forearms. He knew his father was more angry with himself than Draco. He was scared of the Dark Lord, scared of his powers, but too afraid to turn his back on him. But Lucius couldn’t lash out at the madman occupying their home, the man whose ideals he’d worshipped for so long - as long as he’d been in his good graces anyway - so he lashed out at Draco instead. And Draco failed to be the projected version of his father, failed to be living the life Lucius wanted him to live, only fuelling his anger. He was never good enough, he never had been. </p><p>“You don’t say, father? I wouldn’t have noticed,” he said dryly, fully expecting the slap when it came. Only a few months ago he would never have dared to speak to his father like that. But now he had nothing left to lose, and it was so much easier to be brave in front of his father than the Dark Lord. </p><p>Draco laughed, a sad laugh, void of any real emotion. </p><p>“Deigning to use muggle methods of punishment? If only the Dark Lord could see such… <em> lowborn </em> behaviour from his ex-most trusted Death Eater.” </p><p>Draco expected the Crucio when it came, too. He was playing a dangerous game here and he knew it. Screaming in familiar pain, he clutched his sheets and had enough experience with the curse by now that he could comfort himself through it with the prospect of a good long nap once his father had left. </p><p> </p><p>++H++ </p><p> </p><p>Summer was a waiting game for Harry. The order was coming to get him on his 17th birthday, the moment he lost the trace. Until then, he was stuck with the Dursleys, unable to do anything but wait it out. It was torture, in many ways. The Dursleys couldn’t lock him in his room anymore, couldn’t do anything to control his life. Harry was almost an adult, and the Dursleys were too scared of him and his abilities to even try and mistreat him the way they had when he was growing up. Still, his relationship with them was icy at best, even though Dudley had become almost bearable over the years. They even had a conversation or two without exchanging insults, which was a nice change from the usual. </p><p>Harry still spent most of his time in his room or the backyard, reading or listening to music; anything to get his mind off Draco Malfoy. </p><p>He’d found a place where he could exchange his galleons for pounds, so he’d bought a couple of books, a portable CD player, some CDs, and even a mobile phone so he could contact Hermione without being detected. It was highly unlikely that Voldemort would deign to deal with tracking Muggle ways of communication, and Harry was sure he would lose his mind without any way to contact his friends. </p><p>It didn’t work as well as Harry would’ve hoped, though. It killed him inside that he didn’t know how Draco was, didn’t even know if he was still alive. Guilt and heartache mixed together into a painful cocktail, and Harry didn’t know what to do with it. He strangely <em> missed </em> Draco, too. He missed his stupid smirks, and the messy blond hair he’d sported for the majority of sixth year. He also missed his kisses, the way he felt pressed against him, the way his breath would hitch every time Harry kissed him. </p><p>He just needed to know if he was still alive. </p><p>He wanted Draco to know just how sorry he was, and he hoped to whatever entity there was that he would still get a chance to. </p><p>The relief came shortly before his birthday in form of a text from Hermione. </p><p> </p><p><strong> <em>Fred says D is still alive. </em> </strong> <strong> <em>He’s seen him in geometry.</em> </strong></p><p><strong> <em>He doesn’t look well but he’s alive. </em> </strong> <strong> <em>He’s going to be fine, stop beating yourself up, H.</em> </strong></p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>- Mione </em> </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>She used nicknames and code words and stayed vague for the sake of security, something they’d quickly agreed on at the beginning of summer. </p><p>He didn’t know how Fred could’ve spotted Draco in Diagon Alley, but he didn’t really care as long as it meant he was still alive. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. distance we don't need</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for the love so far! here's some mutual pining and an unlikely friendship for you.<br/>title once again taken from "favorite place" by all time low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco was unbelievably glad to be back at Hogwarts. Having survived a horrible summer, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was safe now, though. Snape had been made the new headmaster and the Carrows were ever present to spread fear and pain amongst the students. </p><p>But he was glad to be out of the house, glad to be away from the Dark Lord, away from Bellatrix, and away from his father’s endless frustration. He was worried about leaving his mother, but she’d assured him that she would be fine, and the prospect of being back at Hogwarts had never been more inviting. He’d had no illusions about seeing Potter again, but finding Hogwarts void of him and his friends still felt like a stab to the gut. The castle simply didn’t feel the same without his ever annoying presence. And Draco missed him. It was <em> horrible</em>, truly, but he wanted nothing more than to tell him again how sorry he was. </p><p>As of now, however, Potter was a fugitive. Had he dared to show up at the school, he would now be facing the Dark Lord. Draco had secretly listened to Potterwatch on the small Wireless he was hiding in a suitcase under his bed, desperate to hear if there was any news, if his begrudgingly favourite Scarhead was any closer to ending this collective nightmare once and for all. Most nights there was nothing, but somehow Draco still found comfort in the program and felt a little less alone when he listened to it. </p><p>On the third day back at school, however, Draco found the unlikeliest friend he could think of: Ginevra Weasley. She waited for him after lunch, secretly pulling him away from the friends he wasn’t sure were his friends anymore, casting a disillusionment charm and dragging him outside and down to the lake where she sat down in the shadow of a tree and waited for Draco to join her.</p><p>“Are you okay?” she asked carefully, eyes roaming over the gleaming surface of the water. The question came as so much of a surprise to Draco, he needed several minutes to find an answer. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked him that. It had probably been Potter. His mother usually avoided asking about the obvious, and he’d avoided Pansy and Blaise as much as he could so far, not giving them the chance to get a closer look at him. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t care anyway. </p><p>“No,” Draco said honestly, because he was so damn tired of pretending. </p><p>Girl-Weasel turned to look at him. </p><p>“Yeah… Didn’t think so. No offence, mate, but you look awful.” </p><p>Draco shrugged, a humourless laugh escaping his lips.</p><p>“I’m trying to avoid mirrors right now. Can’t imagine that lunatic’s presence in my house did me any favours over the summer.” </p><p>Ginevra’s eyes widened by just a fraction, before she turned away again to look back out over the lake. </p><p>“You… changed. Harry said you did, but to be honest I didn’t really believe him until now. But there really is something different about you,” she said. Draco didn’t know how to reply to that. He <em> had </em> changed; inevitably. And he missed parts of his old self that he couldn’t find anymore while he was glad to be rid of others. He missed the confidence that had once come so easily to him, he missed being able to rely on his father, he missed the careless Hogwarts days when his biggest worry was getting Potter’s attention. What he didn’t miss was the way his father’s expectations had dictated his life; he didn’t miss the prejudice and pressures of being a pureblood raised by his father, shaped into a perfect smaller version of him. He didn’t miss being Potter’s nemesis. </p><p>More than anything he itched to ask about Potter, though. It was probably the closest he’d gotten to him since that fateful day after the astronomy tower. </p><p>“He asked me to check on you, you know? Harry. I saw him on his birthday, and he asked me to make sure you’re okay, should I return to Hogwarts. So I felt like I owed him.” </p><p>Draco felt his heart clench, so much so he thought it might stop beating altogether. He couldn’t even be mad at she-Weasel for taking pity on him, because she was the only source to Potter he had right now. And if he’d asked about him, if he’d sent his almost-girlfriend to check on him; that meant he didn’t hate him, right? It meant there was still hope. </p><p>“Is he okay?” Draco asked quietly, watching a large bird circling over the lake, feathers glistening in the sun.</p><p>“Last time I heard, yes. He, Ron, and Hermione are out there working on defeating <em> him</em>, you know? Every day they’re out there somewhere, risking their lives… when they should just be here with us starting their last year of Hogwarts…”</p><p>Ginny looked at him, then, searchingly. </p><p>“I would tell you more about what they’re doing, but I fear they might torture the information out of you once you’re back home. Or use Veritaserum, or something.” </p><p>Draco snorted.</p><p>“I’m so used to their torture, they would kill me before getting any information, trust me. And I used the summer to teach myself how to block out the effects of Veritaserum using Occlumency. I’ve gotten quite good at it. You still shouldn’t tell me, just to be safe. But I thought you should know.” </p><p>Ginny looked stricken, reaching out to place a small pale hand on Draco’s forearm. </p><p>“Did you say you’re <em> used to </em> their torture?”</p><p>Draco shrugged.</p><p>“What did you think I was doing all summer? I failed to kill Dumbledore, did you think that would go without punishment?”</p><p>“No, but… Harry said he was scared they were hurting you. I just didn’t think… oh, <em> Malfoy </em>. I’m really sorry. Harry is, too, you know? He said I should tell you that. He’s so sorry for letting you down and not believing in you, and he wishes he could take it all back. You weren’t supposed to be in that house over the summer.” </p><p>Draco didn’t know at what point he’d started crying again, but suddenly he was, tears chasing each other down his cheeks, chest feeling tight. <em> Horrible, horrible, horrible, </em> he thought.</p><p>“He doesn’t hate me?” He despised the way his voice sounded, and he hated how desperate he’d become. </p><p>“No. To be honest, I don’t really understand this whole thing between you two… you used to hate each other and now you’re like… <em> friends</em>. But I know Harry. It’s more than that, isn’t it?” </p><p>Draco bit his lip, and a part of him hated Weaslette for being so observant, too damn perceptive for her own good. He didn’t reply, but he knew she would take his silence as an answer in itself. </p><p>“I was really upset last year, for awhile,” she said instead, “Ever since I was little, there was something about Harry that fascinated me, and for awhile he seemed to be interested in me in the same way. I was thrilled. But then he suddenly wasn’t and I didn’t understand why, what I had done wrong. He talked about you so much, but then looking back, he kind of always did. It’s only his tone and the things he said that changed. It took me a while to see it. He’s never been like that with me, or anyone, really; the way he is with you. He saw something in you when no one else did.”</p><p>Draco picked at the grass next to his legs, lips pressed tightly together as he tried to slow down his heart rate, tried to stop the heat rising to his cheeks. Damn his feelings, damn Potter, and most of all damn Ginny Weasley for making him feel like that; for making him hope when there was no hope at all, no safe future that wouldn’t somehow end up breaking his heart again. </p><p>“What are you saying?” he asked, voice void of the venom he’d aimed for, the sneer that had once come so easily to him.</p><p>“I don’t really know,” Ginevra said, “I think you have a better idea than I do.” </p><p>Maybe he had. But he still had a difficult time believing that Potter could possibly feel the same way about him that Draco did; that somehow, miraculously, he returned his fucked up feelings that should never have been there in the first place.  </p><p>“Potter doesn’t feel that way about me,” he said, feigning some kind of ill-timed confidence he didn’t even have. ”I’m just a pity-project of his. A new charity case, just someone else he feels obliged to save. He doesn’t trust me, and why would he?” Draco said bitterly, angrily pushing up his sleeve to reveal his scarred Dark Mark. There was scar tissue all around it and crossing through its middle, caused by his various failed removal attempts over the summer, one of which had nearly killed him. His father had found him bleeding out in his room, and had put him straight under Crucio as punishment after healing him. Draco had slept for three days after, and when he woke up his mother had been by his side, crying. </p><p>“I’m sorry, my boy,” she’d said, “I promise we’ll get through this.” </p><p>Draco still wasn’t sure how she could promise something like that. </p><p>“Malfoy… <em> Draco… </em>” Ginevra said slowly, eyes soft as she reached out to trail the Mark with her fingertips. The touch startled him, but Draco was almost impressed by her calmness, the way she didn’t even flinch. “You’re wrong about him. Harry has a saviour complex, no doubt, but he’s not a fool and he’s not nearly as forgiving as you give him credit for. He wouldn’t have done any of the things he did for you if he didn’t believe there was something worth saving in you. Harry doesn’t do things for attention, or for his reputation. He hates all that stuff. He’s never liked the limelight. Everything he gives you, he actually means. But you and him always had a complicated relationship, and he was stricken with shock and grief when Dumbledore died. You have to see past that. He really is sorry. He’s spent all summer worrying about you.” </p><p>Draco was certain this was the most he’d ever heard girl-Weasley talk. Deep down, he suspected she was right. There was so much he still didn’t know about Potter, but despite his talent for always getting himself into the centre of attention, he’d never seemed to be basking in it. Instead, he’d always seemed to be running from it and looked shy and embarrassed when he couldn’t. Draco had never really allowed himself to perceive it like that before and had instead chosen to see the attention Potter got to fuel his envy as well as spite and the ever lingering sense of rejection. </p><p>“Maybe he should’ve stuck with you,” Draco said, “Merlin knows you would’ve been the safer choice. Look at me. I’m no good being on Potter’s side, but I’m no good at being a Death Eater either. I’m just… messed up. Chances are I won’t even survive this war.” </p><p>Ginevra tilted her head and regarded him for a moment, a small smile dancing around her lips.</p><p>“I think I’m starting to see what Harry sees in you,” she said. “Look. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. But you being here with me right now proves that you’re still on the right path. You made your choices, and they were the right ones in the end. Everything else isn’t your fault.” </p><p>Draco picked up a small rock from the ground and threw it into the lake. </p><p>“Sometimes I’m not even sure I know who I am,” he said honestly, not looking at the ginger girl next to him. </p><p>She laughed lightly.</p><p>“I don’t think any of us do, not really. That’s why we’re teenagers, right?” </p><p>Draco looked up to her, fragile smile forming at her words. </p><p>“I… suppose so.” </p><p> </p><p>Draco and Ginny started meeting up more often after that; just to talk, or sometimes to just sit together in silence. Eventually Longbottom joined as well, and Draco began to see Potter’s Gryffindor friends in a whole new light. They were loyal, and forgiving, stupidly brave, and optimistic in a way that annoyed him sometimes. But they were good company, and able to fill Draco with that spark of hope he had lost over the summer. The whole lot of them were the only ones standing up to the Carrows, taking the torture to save someone else from it whenever they could. Draco tried to do the same, tried to protect first years whenever he got the chance, albeit in a more subtle way than the Gryffindors, but the Death Eaters seemed less inclined to point their wands at him, and Draco didn’t want to risk a killing curse for being known as a traitor to the Dark Lord. He couldn’t help anyone if he was dead. </p><p>“Potter and I kissed… sometimes,” Draco blurted out one night, shortly after Halloween, when he had snuck away to get drunk off stolen Firewhiskey with Ginny and Longbottom. He’d been reluctant at first. What if they were caught? The Carrows wouldn’t go lightly on them, and especially not Draco if he was found cohorting with Gryffindors. Plus, he argued, it wasn’t really the time to party while Potter was out there risking his life trying to save them all, and the Dark Lord was waiting his turn. </p><p>But they’d convinced him, eventually, and so they’d ended up in the Room of Requirement, locked and sealed and hidden away in a room that might’ve looked like someone’s basement. </p><p>“I KNEW IT!” Ginny yelled, and her enthusiasm still confused Draco. She’d poked and prodded him to spill information about the nature of his relationship with Potter ever since that day at the lake in September, but Draco had refused to give in. Longbottom wrinkled his nose, surprise evident on his face. </p><p>“You kissed? Like… on the mouth?” he asked, and Ginny whacked him on the shoulder. </p><p>Draco didn’t even deign to give him an answer to that.  </p><p>“Details, Malfoy. Spill it,” Ginny demanded, and Draco felt himself blush a little under her scrutiny. “I've wanted to kiss Harry since I was 10 years old, but it’s never going to happen so I have to live vicariously through you. Spill. It.” </p><p>“Well…” he started, hesitating. The urge to finally tell someone about it was in combat with his natural need for privacy, but eventually he decided that he could trust Ginny and Longbottom, and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk about it, to make it feel a bit more real. “I don’t really know how it started. We fought, one day, after he cursed me in the bathroom and felt guilty about it, and then suddenly we were kissing. And then we just kept doing it whenever we fought or otherwise got a chance. I don’t know. We never talked about it.” </p><p>Ginny laughed heartily, taking a big sip from the Firewhiskey.</p><p>“Of course you two would start fighting and end up making out. It’s too perfect.” </p><p>Longbottom was still staring at him a bit wide eyed and it was starting to irritate Draco. He’d come to like the dimwit, he really had, but sometimes it was so hard to keep his insults in check around him. </p><p>“What, Longbottom? If you keep staring at me like that I’m afraid your eyeballs might dry out.” </p><p>“I… you’re gay?” he asked, and Draco snorted.</p><p>“Yes. That what kept you staring like that? I’m sorry to say you aren’t exactly my type, Longbottom.” </p><p>Neville ignored him and turned to Ginny instead. </p><p>“Harry’s gay?” </p><p>“We don’t know, Neville. It’s none of our business, either. And it doesn’t matter anyway.” </p><p>Ginny's words seemed to snap Longbottom out of it and he turned back to Draco, looking embarrassed.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Malfoy. I’m not judging or anything, I’m only surprised, I guess. And I’m not… I mean, you’re pretty and everything but… I’m not…” The boy’s face turned scarlet and Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Stop making it worse, Longbottom. I was just teasing you, <em> good grief</em>, calm down.” </p><p>“Sorry… I just—”</p><p>Draco had taken some time to find the courage to apologise to Longbottom for everything he’d said and done to him over the years. But he’d felt like it was something he needed to do, feeling so ashamed of the spoiled bully he’d been that he’d started having nightmares about the whole thing. So one day in October he’d decided to swallow what was left of his pride and apologised. Longbottom had looked surprised but accepted almost immediately, pulling Draco into a tight, awkward hug. </p><p>“Stop apologising, you <em>idiot</em>,” Draco said, grabbing the bottle from Ginny, who was laughing delightedly at their conversation. </p><p>“Cheers!” Draco took a big sip, actually feeling grateful to Longbottom’s social ineptitude for making him think about something other than wars and Dark Lords and torture and Potter for awhile. “So you think I’m pretty, do you?” </p><p>Longbottom blushed, and Draco waggled his eyebrows at him. It took the Gryffindor several moments to compose himself, but then he painted on a goofy smile and shrugged.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re alright.” </p><p>Draco laughed, and Ginny grabbed the bottle from him.</p><p>“He’s right,” she agreed, “You aren’t half bad on the eyes. Good cheekbones. Shouldn’t be a surprise that Harry’s caught the hots for you after staring at you for so long.”</p><p>Draco felt unwanted heat creeping to his cheeks and he did his best trying to hide it behind the Firewhiskey he stole back. This was truly <em> horrendous </em> and he faintly wondered why he’d ever thought it a good idea to befriend a bunch of Gryffindors.</p><p>“Is he a good kisser?” Ginny asked a few hours later when all three of them were quite drunk and sprawled on the floor looking at the stars they’d spelled onto the ceiling.</p><p>“Bi’ sloppy,” Draco said with a slight slur, clearing his throat when he realised, “But I wouldn’t know any different. Only kissed Pansy before and that hardly counts. Was just once, too. Potter and I kissed differently. And more. It feels really good to kiss him. Warm. And… <em>fluttery</em>." He shuddered, but his drunken tongue had completely got away from him. "I miss it.”</p><p>Ginny only hummed, and Longbottom snorted from his spot on Draco’s right.</p><p>“You’re in love, mate.” </p><p>Drunk as he was, Draco felt his heart clench and that strange fluttering beneath his ribcage increase. <em>Maybe he was. </em></p><p>“I’m not!” he said indignantly, throwing a pillow at Longbottom. </p><p>“Yes you are,” Ginny agreed, laughing as she whacked Draco with a different pillow. Draco threw one back at her, and soon they were too busy laughing and throwing pillows to talk about Potter and utterly ridiculous notions of love. </p><p> </p><p>++H++ </p><p> </p><p>Harry didn’t hear from Draco again until Ron returned to him and Hermione on boxing day. He’d quickly forgiven his friend for leaving them after he’d saved him from the freezing pond and had finally destroyed their first Horcrux, too tired and anxious to hold a grudge. He was just glad to have Ron back, honestly, even if Hermione wasn’t so quick to forgive and forget. Their situation was different, anyway.</p><p>“Ginny’s obsessed with him too now, congrats Harry,” Ron said when they were having dinner that night, perched on their bunks.</p><p>“What?” he asked, frowning, “Who?” </p><p>“Malfoy, <em> duh</em>,” Ron said and Harry’s heart started beating a little faster. </p><p>“He’s okay?!” Harry asked, sitting up much faster than he’d intended to and making himself feel slightly dizzy in the process. Ron rolled his eyes. </p><p>“It appears so. She wouldn’t shut up about him anyway. Neville either. I have no idea what he’s done to them. Or you. He must’ve imperiused the lot of you.” </p><p>Harry smiled, heart warming at the thought of Draco doing his utmost to win Ginny and Neville over. He’d asked Ginny to check on him if she saw him at Hogwarts, and hearing that she’d taken his request much more seriously than he thought she would filled him with comfort and warmth. </p><p>“Maybe you should just give him a chance, too, once all this is over,” Hermione commented, “He’s not so bad anymore once you get to know him a little better, you know. And clearly he’s made an effort, so he deserves a chance.” </p><p>Ron made a face.</p><p>“But he’s <em> Malfoy</em>,” he whined, “Have you both forgotten all the shit he’s put us through?”</p><p>“No,” Harry said, “But he was a kid that mostly just said and did what his father taught him. He’s his own person now and he’s made a choice. He apologised. Now let him prove himself.” </p><p>“You aren’t better than the things you hate about him if you don’t give him a chance,” Hermione added. Ron looked entirely displeased, face scrunched up like he’d tasted something sour. </p><p>“Whatever,” he said after several moments of silence, “Ginny said he misses you. He’s not mad at you or anything, just scared you are back to hating him. But Ginny said she made sure he knows that’s not true.”</p><p>Harry felt his heart beating a little faster again, hands shaking as he was trying to take another bite of the stew Hermione had made for them. </p><p>“And he’s okay? Not hurt or anything?”</p><p>Ron sighed, resignedly leaning back on his bed.</p><p>“Ginny didn’t say much about that. I’d guess Malfoy doesn’t want everyone to know. But she did say he’s doing fine for the moment, at least he did before he had to go back to the manor over the holidays.” </p><p>Harry nearly spilled his stew over his mattress as he punched it, anger and guilt welling up in his chest. </p><p>“He’s not supposed to be there! He shouldn’t have to be! If I’d just… he could’ve come with us, he would be safe from—”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa, mate,” Ron stopped him, hand raised as he was staring at him, “You wanted to take him Horcrux hunting? <em> Draco Malfoy</em>, an actual marked Death Eater. And you wanted to just, what, fill him in on everything, take him along so he could provide his precious Lord with all the information about your plans and whereabouts?” </p><p>“He’s not a Death Eater. He has the Mark, yes, but he didn’t want it. It’s covered in scars because he tried to get rid of it, did you know? He thinks Tom is a lunatic, he didn’t choose any of it. How often do I need to tell you?” Harry put his bowl aside and buried his head under his pillow so he could let out a frustrated scream. </p><p>“No point in fighting about it now,” Hermione said quietly, “He’s not here, is he?” </p><p>“No. But he should be,” Harry said, quickly getting up and leaving the tent. He needed some air. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t really sure when he’d become Malfoy’s biggest defender, but after spending months thinking about him, feeling guilty and <em> missing him,</em> Harry had made his peace with it eventually. There was something drawing him to the blond git, like an invisible force, and it had been there from the start. He saw it in a different light now, especially after sixth year, and he didn’t know what it meant or even what he wanted it to mean, but he did know that Draco didn’t deserve the place he was in. Harry was worried about him, and he was sick of pretending that he wasn’t. Hearing from him through Ginny and Ron had been a relief of sorts Harry couldn’t even explain, but it had also made his heart feel heavy. </p><p>Leaning back against a tree, Harry looked up into the starry night sky, wondering, hoping, that Draco was okay.</p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>Draco looked up at the stars covering the night sky from his window, listening to Potterwatch on his small wireless under the protection of a Muffliato as he wondered where Potter was and how he was doing. It had been well over half a year since the astronomy tower, and other than the few things Ginny had heard and the sparse information Potterwatch provided, Draco didn’t have a clue whether he was okay or if he was already lying dead in a ditch. </p><p>He shuddered at the thought, tightly pulling his blanket around him. </p><p>The Dark Lord was blissfully absent over the Christmas holidays, but Bellatrix and his father were still reason enough to stay holed up in his room for the majority of the time. Sometimes Bellatrix would drag him out and to force him to do something horrible that usually involved torture, and when Draco refused she simply put him under the Imperius curse. </p><p>“You are a disgrace to all Death Eaters,” she would say, “A disgrace to your family name!” And then she would screech and laugh maniacally as she threw jinxes at him. </p><p>He was used to it by now, though, so Draco would wrap himself in Protegos and hope she would get bored soon. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t really realise how bad things had gotten again until he was back at Hogwarts crying onto Ginny’s shoulder as she wrapped him into a comforting hug. It was appalling, absolutely <em> horrid</em>. But he was long past caring. </p><p>“It’s okay,” she said as she was rubbing circles onto his back, “It’s okay.”</p><p>He was grateful that she didn’t even attempt to lie to him, didn’t tell him it was going to be alright or that he was safe now. Because neither of them knew what would be and he wasn’t safe, not at home, not at Hogwarts, not anywhere. There was no use in pretending otherwise. The Carrows had shown up at the manor over the holidays, just in time to witness his inability to torture innocents - a fact they would undoubtedly be using against him. They’d chosen to leave him alone most of the time before the holidays, too busy spreading fear and horror amongst the students who weren’t marked Death Eaters. Draco knew he wouldn’t be so lucky this time. </p><p>“I saw Ron over the holidays,” Ginny told him eventually, when Draco’s tears had dried up and he was rubbing at his eyes, trying to swallow his shame. He looked up, eyes wide and hopeful.</p><p>“He had some sort of falling out with Harry and Hermione, but he returned to them on boxing day. He’s fine, you know? Harry. Ron couldn’t tell me much but they’re making progress in their quest, and Harry is as fine as he can be given the circumstances.” </p><p>Draco nodded, relief spreading in his chest. </p><p>“That’s good. I’m glad,” he said quietly, desperately clinging onto the positive feeling, but he could already feel it fade again. </p><p>“Ron said he talks about you a lot. He isn’t your biggest fan, as you know, so he mostly complained about the fact. But yeah, Harry misses you too.” </p><p>Draco had a hard time believing that. What about him would be worth missing for Potter? The kissing, maybe. Draco could give him that. It had been some bloody good kissing after all. But other than that he imagined Potter was simply too busy trying to save the world to waste a lot of time thinking about Draco and his messed up life. </p><p>“He misses an idea of me,” he said, biting his lip. </p><p>“No. He misses the part of you that he knows. There is a difference.” </p><p>Draco tilted his head and gave Ginny a small smile, eyes narrowed suspiciously.</p><p>“How are you so wise, anyway? You’re supposed to be younger than me. Plus, you’re a <em> Weasley</em>,” he said with an air of disgust, laughing when the expected slap hit his shoulder. </p><p>Ginny grinned as she shoved him and got up to be on time for her next class. </p><p>“It’s good to see you laughing, you prick.” </p><p>Draco watched her go, wondering not for the first time how he’d managed to make such good friends with the Weaselette. He’d been jealous of her at best, if not outright resenting her for not only being a Weasley, but also capturing Potter’s attention so effortlessly. Oddly, she was maybe the best friend he’d ever had, though; mostly because Draco actually felt like he could trust her in a way he never felt like he could trust his Slytherin friends before. It still felt strange to let all his prejudices go, all the bigoted notions his father had raised him with, but at least he was finally starting to be his own person; which was someone he had never realised he longed to be before. It didn’t make much sense to him anymore, the way a person should be worth less simply because they were born into different circumstances. He couldn’t deny that it felt good to break free, in a way. Strong, brave. Even in the middle of all the misery he had to endure. </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. caught in the tension, silent confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I ACTUALLY meant to wait a bit longer with this one but tbh I just had a really shitty day so here we go anyway. Hope you enjoy! The title of this chapter is taken from "Glitter &amp; Crimson" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>March 29th, 1998. The day Draco finally saw Harry Potter again. </p><p>The idiot had gotten himself captured by blurting out the Dark Lord’s name and thus drawing snatchers on him and his friends, and wasn’t that just so <em> Potter </em>? Mouth always a step ahead of his brain. It was infuriating, really. </p><p>Draco recognised them the moment they were dragged into Malfoy manor. Not only were Weasley and Granger a dead giveaway, Draco was sure he would recognise Potter even if his head had been in the way of a blending hex. Granger must’ve hit him with a stinging jinx, making his face bloat and swell, rendering him unrecognisable for anyone that didn’t know him as well as Draco did. Quick thinking on her part, as usual. </p><p>So, naturally, he was dragged forward to identify the Boy Who Lived, his father explaining the importance of it all to him in a hushed voice as he pushed him forward. The Malfoys still weren’t back in the Dark Lord‘s good graces, and what would be better to help his family’s reputation than deliver the bloody <em> Chosen One </em> directly to his doorstep? They had to be sure, though, as Bellatrix emphasised in her annoyingly shrill voice, or the Dark Lord would be even more displeased with them than he already was.</p><p>Draco couldn’t care less about any of it. </p><p>His eyes were fixated on Potter, heart beating so fast it felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. It was so good to see him again, even if his face wasn’t right and Draco would have to find a way to do Potter’s job and save his blasted saviour arse. </p><p>“Draco! Is it him? Is it Potter?” </p><p>Potter stared back at him, and there was something so soft in his eyes, Draco suddenly felt something stir in him, like he was ready to fight his entire family just to get him to safety.  </p><p>“I can’t be sure,” Draco said, “ What happened to his face? He looks pretty messed up.” He paused. “No. I don’t think it’s him.” </p><p>He swallowed, hoping he’d played it convincingly enough. </p><p>Bellatrix seemed to see something she didn’t like behind him, because next thing he knew, she was screeching about a sword, his father had pulled Draco to the side, Potter and Weasley were dragged away into the dungeons, and his deranged aunt was torturing Hermione, urging her to explain how she’d gotten into her Gringotts vault. Draco felt sick, Hermione’s screams shaking him down to his bones. He knew exactly how it felt, and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. His mind was racing, desperately searching for a solution, a way to make his aunt lay off Granger. </p><p>“Bella!” he heard himself say, “Let me do it. I know her. And I’m ready. I think I’m ready now.” </p><p>Bellatrix looked up, wicked delight dancing over her features. </p><p>“Draco!” she exclaimed, “Who would’ve thought? Well come on, then, give us a show.” </p><p>Draco swallowed hard, wand raised as he walked over and leaned over Hermione, who looked back at him with a mixture of pain, fear, confusion, and the tiniest spark of hope. Bellatrix had cut the word “Mudblood” into the pale skin on her forearm, and Draco felt sick all over again. </p><p>He winked at her, scrambling to find a way to communicate with her. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down on top of her, legs on either side of her hips, pretending to hold her down. </p><p>“Oh, I dreamed of doing this since I was 11 years old, and now I finally get to give you what you deserve for always beating me to top of the class, <em> Mudblood</em>,” he said loudly, cringing even as he formed the words. There was a flicker of fear in Hermione’s eyes, and Draco loathed himself for putting it there. </p><p>He leaned down, lowering his voice to a whisper.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Hermione, I don’t mean that, but it was the only way I could help you. You’re going to need to keep screaming, alright? I’m sure Potter told you I can’t actually pull of the Cruciatus, so you need to help me out here.” </p><p>He looked her in the eyes to make sure she understood, before sitting up and pointing his wand at her chest. </p><p>“<em>Crucio!</em>” </p><p>It didn’t come as a surprise to Draco that Granger’s acting would’ve fooled even him, so much so that for a moment he worried it had actually worked in the worst possible moment. But no; despite the way he’d treated her in the past, there wasn’t a single cell in his body that meant the girl beneath him any harm. </p><p>Bellatrix cackled manically, delighted at Draco’s sudden success, and he wanted nothing more than to direct his wand at her instead and hex her into the next week. </p><p>The <em> Stupefy </em> hit him unexpectedly.</p><p>But then suddenly he was thrown off, Weasley was throwing jinxes at him, and Bellatrix grabbed Hermione off the ground in quick movement to keep Weasley and Potter from hexing her. </p><p>This was it. Draco knew this was the moment he had to make a stand, the moment his life would turn around, for better or worse. And <em> fucking hell </em> did he wish he had just a shred more innate courage inside him. A little more Gryffindor, just for <em> once </em>.</p><p>Bellatrix was urging them to call the Dark Lord, and Draco met Harry’s eyes, begging him to understand. His father stretched out his arm and pulled back his sleeve, and then everything sped up again. Draco had stunned him before he could even register what he was doing. Dobby was there, too, suddenly, making the chandelier crash down right where Bellatrix was keeping Hermione, so she had to push her away into Weasley’s arms and jump back, anger evident on her face. </p><p>And then Potter was right before him, looking straight into his eyes and grabbing his hand. </p><p>“Come on, Draco, we have to go,” he urged, and Draco didn’t hesitate a second, following him to where Weasley and Granger were waiting alongside their former house elf. </p><p>He handed Potter his wand, nodding as the other boy gave him a questioning look. </p><p>“You don’t have one, do you? And you’re better than me in DADA,” Draco hissed. It pained him greatly to admit it, but there was no time to ponder over his quickly made decision. </p><p>“Draco!” his father’s voice yelled across the room, “What do you think you’re doing?” </p><p>“Draco,” his mother said more quietly, “Come back over, darling. You can still make this right.”</p><p>“He’s a traitor!” Bellatrix bellowed, “I’ve said it all along! He’s a right <em> poofter </em> for the Potter boy.” </p><p>Draco gritted his teeth, the slur cutting him deeper than it had any right to. He wondered faintly if this was how Granger had felt when he’d called her a <em> mudblood</em>. It hurt to be degraded for something he couldn’t change about himself. </p><p>“That’s what I’m doing, mother. The right thing,” Draco said firmly, breathing heavily. Potter grabbed his hand, and then they were disapparating. </p><p> </p><p>Weasley was back on him the moment they landed on some kind of beach, throwing punches like a Muggle this time while Draco tried to scramble away from underneath his body weight, protecting his face with his hands. It was Granger who pulled Weasley away, shoving him and leaning down to offer Draco a hand to help him get up. </p><p>“Hermione! What the fuck? He tortured you! Less than 10 minutes ago he was Bellatrix’s little lackey, how can you—”</p><p>“He didn’t torture me, Ron! He <em> saved </em> me!” </p><p>“Hermione, I’m not sure if you hit your head or something but I <em> saw </em> him torture you.”</p><p>“No, Ron. Bellatrix tortured me. Draco offered to take over to save me. He <em> pretended </em> to torture me, and my brilliant acting convinced you it was real. But it wasn’t. Draco can’t do a successful Cruciatus even if his life depends on it.”</p><p>Draco allowed a small smirk to slip onto his lips. </p><p>“Ouch. My ego should probably feel more bruised right now but to be fair, she’s right. I suck at Unforgivables.” </p><p>Weasley leaned closer towards Hermione, still eying Draco rather suspiciously. </p><p>“He really didn’t torture you?” </p><p>Hermione shook her head, smiling softly, gratefully, as she met Draco’s eyes.</p><p>“No.” </p><p>Weasley sighed. </p><p>“Alright then. I suppose I owe you an apology. That still doesn’t mean I trust you, though.” He looked like his own words caused him great pain, and he glared at Draco in a way that would’ve unnerved him once upon a time. Draco shrugged.</p><p>“Fair enough.” </p><p>It was only then that the three of them all collectively noticed Potter’s absence, quickly running down towards the shore where he was hovering over Dobby’s lifeless body, sobbing. </p><p>Draco felt his chest tighten up, and his breathing getting harder as he dropped down into the sand next to Potter. On instinct alone, he pulled him into a hug, and felt Granger wrap her arms around them both from behind. Another hand suggested that Weasley had also joined their group hug, and Draco once again wondered how he’d ended up there, sandwiched right in the middle of the famous Golden Trio, trying and failing not to feel like an intruder, and a fraud.</p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco sat close to Dobby’s makeshift grave and threw stones into the unruly sea when Potter plopped down next to him. He’d decided to give the trio some space after they’d buried Dobby and wandered up to the nearby cottage where - as he was told - Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour lived. </p><p>“When I was little,” Draco said quietly, “Maybe five or six, Dobby would always sneak sweets into my room for me to find under my pillow. And I didn’t like eggs, so he would make sure I never got eggs for breakfast. Miraculously, there never were enough to put on my plate, even if it meant my father would punish him for his mistake. He was my favourite, growing up. Even when my father’s views clouded that. I always knew he was special, even when Lucius made me feel like I wasn’t allowed to think like that.”</p><p>Potter’s hand squeezed his, and Draco felt warmer than he should as the cold wind swept around them. </p><p>“I’d say I’m sorry for freeing him when we were 12 then, but honestly... I’m not,” Potter said, smile audible in his voice. </p><p>“Don’t you dare, Saint Potter. That was the best thing you could’ve done for him. Naturally I despised you for it when my father went berserk that summer. It was just another reason to hate you, really. But Lucius was horrible to the house elves.” </p><p>“I’m not having a hard time believing that.” </p><p>There was moment of silence, then Harry spoke up again. </p><p>“Can’t believe you didn’t like eggs. I would’ve killed for some eggs growing up.” </p><p>Draco turned to frown at him.</p><p>“That’s a weird joke to make.”</p><p>“I wish it was. But you know the way your father doesn’t like Muggles? The family I grew up with was basically the same, only that they didn’t like wizards. Thought we were <em> freaks</em>. I mostly got to eat their leftovers or just like… <em> bread</em>, with some spread if I was lucky.” </p><p>Draco stared at Potter, speechless. </p><p>“You aren’t serious?”</p><p>Potter laughed, void of any humour.</p><p>“I bet you thought I had this perfect life growing up, didn’t you? When in reality I got leftovers, hand-me-down clothes, and slept in a cupboard.” </p><p>Draco almost did a double take.</p><p>“A CUPBOARD? Like… like a <em> cockroach</em>?” Draco wrinkled his nose.</p><p>Potter chuckled, some of the humour returning to his voice.</p><p>“Exactly like that.”</p><p>“Fucking<em> hell</em>, Potter. Why would Dumbledore allow that?” </p><p>It seemed to Draco that the list of horrible and frankly questionable at best decisions on their former headmaster’s behalf was never ending.</p><p>“I don’t know. He said I was safe there. Because it was my aunt’s family, my mother’s sister. And when my Mum died to protect me, she put a powerful spell over me to keep me safe growing up. But apparently it only lasted while I was close to her blood. I don’t know if it was worth the shit I endured for it, though.” </p><p>Draco kept staring at him, unable to fathom that the boy he’d envied for the bigger part of his life had not had a childhood worth his envy at all. </p><p>“It doesn’t matter now,” Potter said, looking out over the stormy sea. There were dark clouds forming in sky, and Draco was sure it would start raining soon. </p><p>“Hermione told me what you did. That was very brave of you. Bellatrix could’ve realised you were faking it,” Potter spoke up again after a while, his eyes on him with something Draco had never seen directed at him before: Admiration. <em> Pride</em>. </p><p>It was almost unnerving. </p><p>Draco shrugged.</p><p>“So? What was she going to do to me?” </p><p>“Torture <em> you </em> instead?” </p><p>Draco sighed, absentmindedly rubbing at his scarred forearm. It got itchy, sometimes. </p><p>“I’m used to it. Hermione isn’t. I could’ve taken it,” he said quietly, fully realising how horrid his own words sounded.</p><p>“<em>Draco</em>,” Potter said softly, squeezing the hand he was still holding. Draco faintly wondered when he’d started using his first name. “What did they do to you?” </p><p>“Nothing that killed me,” Draco told him, averting his eyes. </p><p>“Draco…” </p><p>Potter pulled at his shoulder, trying to meet his eyes, but Draco feared he would start crying the moment he turned his head around, he so he kept stubbornly looking ahead. Potter wouldn’t relent, though, and the intensity of his eyes hit him like a force he couldn’t explain when he finally looked over.</p><p>“Look, Potter—”</p><p>He forgot what he wanted to say. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Potter’s, like a complete <em> moron</em>. It was a soft, chaste kiss, and it lasted mere seconds before Draco pulled away again, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. He hadn’t really planned to jump Potter the moment they had some time to themselves, especially after such a long time and the way they’d parted. It was <em> stupid</em>, really. Draco hated himself a little for his complete lack of good judgement round the bespectacled git. </p><p>But then Potter pulled him back in, kissing him like Draco was the air he needed back in his lungs. And Draco kissed him back feeling the same, gasping, like he might as well be floating above the ground. It was so different from the angry kisses they’d shared before, different than the playful ones and the desperate ones; this was something else altogether, it made Draco <em> feel </em> something he’d never felt before, and it scared him just as much as it excited him. </p><p>His heart was doing somersaults in his chest as he cupped Harry’s cheek, kissing him deeply.</p><p>“Oi, dickheads,” a familiar voice said suddenly, breaking the moment. Draco pulled away, face feeling hot as he looked up to find Ginny grinning at them, hands on her hips. Harry scrambled up like he’d been burned, face cherry red. Draco almost felt hurt at the reaction, but then he remembered that he didn’t know Ginny knew, and given their history, it wasn’t so utterly insulting anymore. </p><p>“Ginny!” Potter exclaimed in surprise, “I—um, this— I— he— we,” he stuttered embarrassingly. Draco faintly felt like incinerating them both. </p><p>Ginny rolled her eyes at Draco, who also got up from the sand, recovered enough to return her annoying grin. </p><p>“Hi Weaselgirl,” he said as she threw her arms around him and he hugged her back with an arm tightly wrapped around her waist. </p><p>“Hi Ferretboy,” she returned the sentiment, playfully whacking his shoulder as she pulled away, “Hope you got through the last days in that hell hole without any lasting damage.” </p><p>She said it lightly, but Draco knew her well enough to hear the underlying concern.</p><p>“Yeah, Bella was surprisingly tame this time around,” he told her, slowly feeling a little shaky now that the initial surprise had worn off. He turned to look at Potter, who stood there gaping at them, jaw dropped. </p><p>“Well, hello to you too, Harry,” Ginny said with a smirk, and that seemed to snap Potter out of it. </p><p>“Uhm. Hey, Gin.” </p><p>He hugged her, surprise and confusion still written all over his face. Draco started counting down in his head, three, two—</p><p>“Sorry, but what the fuck!?” he finally said, and Draco chuckled. </p><p>“I thought you asked me to befriend him last summer,” Ginny replied, feigning ignorance. </p><p>“I—I said check up on him! I mean, Ron said he won you over but—”</p><p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Ginny held up a hand. “Who’s to say <em> I </em> didn’t win <em> him </em> over?” </p><p>“Oh, it was definitely that way round,” Draco agreed. Ginny nodded, a smug smile spreading on her face. </p><p>“Do you have a problem with us being friends, Harry?” she asked, playful frown forming. </p><p>“No! Not at all, I mean— I’m just surprised, I guess. And he— <em> we </em>—” Potter looked a bit like a fish as he was trying to explain himself, Draco noted amusedly. </p><p>“I won’t tell Ron, no worries,” Ginny said with a wink, “Terribly sorry to barge in on your moment there, by the way, but dinner’s ready and Fleur doesn’t appreciate unpunctuality, I’m afraid.” </p><p>They followed Ginny up to the cottage, and Draco felt his head swim a little. Dread, grief, relief, butterflies - it was a strange cocktail of emotions, to say the least. </p><p>“You told her, didn’t you?” Potter whispered just before they entered the cottage. There was no accusation in his voice, but somehow Draco felt like he needed to apologise anyway.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry.” </p><p>Potter nodded.</p><p>“It’s okay. I told Hermione, too.” </p><p> </p><p>++H++</p><p> </p><p>To say Harry was confused was a complete understatement. He was exhausted, barely hanging onto any thread of coherent thoughts. He’d endured a stinging jinx, had been captured by snatchers, battled a bunch of Death Eaters, freed his friends while at it, watched Dobby die, feared for all their lives - and then, somehow, ended up kissing Draco Malfoy on a beach, just to be interrupted by a girl he used to fancy. He didn’t even know what emotion to feel first, what thought to ponder on, or what sense of anxiety and dread to fight first. His heart felt heavy and light at the same time, and he just wanted to sleep for at least two weeks. </p><p>He still didn’t really understand the <em> thing </em> he and Malfoy had, and he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to figure it out as he was staring at the ceiling of one of Bill’s and Fleur’s guest rooms, blanket pulled tightly around him. He’d talked to Hermione about it before, as he’d told Malfoy earlier, one night after Ron had left them and Harry was feeling particularly blue and overwhelmed by everything. In a way, the strange thing he had going on with Malfoy felt <em> easy</em>. It wasn’t; not even close, but it felt <em> normal</em>. It felt like something a 17-year-old <em> should </em> worry about, as opposed to power hungry lunatics and their brainwashed cult followers. </p><p>“I kissed him,” he’d said into the silence of the night, unable to find rest as he joined Hermione on her watch. </p><p>Hermione had needed a few moments to understand.</p><p>“What? Whom?” </p><p>“<em>Draco. </em>” </p><p>“Oh,” she’d said, a knowing smile tugging at corner of her mouth. “I can’t really say I’m surprised, Harry. The way you two always danced around each other, it was only a matter of time until you either kissed or murdered each other. I guess in a way it was both for you.” </p><p>“First the near-murder then the kissing,” Harry had muttered, absentmindedly picking some grass from the ground. </p><p>“Well, how do you feel about him?” Hermione had asked, and Harry had shrugged.</p><p>“I don’t know. I did like the kissing. We’ve done it a few times… like we just couldn’t stop. There was also… Well.” Harry had stopped and blushed, taking a moment to remind himself that this was Hermione he was talking to, someone who’d known him inside and out since he was eleven years old. “We didn’t have sex. But… God, this is awkward. It was more than kissing on the mouth but less than sex, alright? I <em> might</em>’ve kissed the Sectumsempra scars on his chest. But he’s still <em> Malfoy</em>, you know? It’s complicated.”</p><p>Hermione had put the book she’d been reading aside and grabbed his wrist instead, drawing comforting circles onto its inside. </p><p>“It okay to <em> not know </em> and still enjoy something, Harry. You don’t have to figure it out right now. It’s obvious you care about him, but you don’t have to make any kind of commitment right now. We’re so young, and we’re in the middle of a war. Let it be complicated. You’ll figure it out over time, I’m sure of it.” </p><p> </p><p>Hermione had been right, but like any mystery it still snuck into his mind from time to time, wanting to be solved. Especially now that he’d seen him again. He hadn’t really gone out to join him with a plan to kiss him again. He’d just wanted to talk, something they had yet to do. But then Draco had made the first step, and Harry couldn’t resist the overwhelming sensation of it, the tingly warmth spreading from his stomach when he kissed the other boy. He was sure it meant something, but he wasn’t ready to get there yet, especially not in the middle of a war he wasn’t sure he would even survive. </p><p>But Draco was with them now, at last, and Harry felt like that accounted to much more than he was ready for, but everything he needed at the same time.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. take a little time to dry your salty ocean tears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Got a long one for you after letting you wait a day longer this time!! I wanted to finish some edits first and yesterday was a really bad day for me personally and mental health wise, but here we are now. Loads of necessary conversations, Muggle music, and the first reason for the "mild smut" tag in this one. Hope you enjoy!</p><p>The chapter title is taken from a song called "Safe" by All Time Low. (Which is my personal favorite!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco was sitting on the porch, wrapped up in a blanket, looking out over the dark sea and listening to the waves crashing onto the shore when he heard footsteps behind him. He didn’t bother turning around, but wasn’t surprised when Potter sat down on a chair next to him. He too was wrapped in a blanket, hair even messier than usual from tossing and turning in bed, Draco assumed. </p><p>“Can’t sleep?” he asked, and Draco shook his head.</p><p>“I just keep thinking about my mother. I hope she’s okay. The Dark Lord won’t be pleased about my departure.” </p><p>Potter paused for a moment. Then, “Why do you keep calling him that?” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“<em>The Dark Lord</em>. Kind of puts him on a pedestal he doesn’t belong on, doesn’t it?” </p><p>Draco frowned.</p><p>“I suppose you’re right. Just habit, I guess. I have to admit I never really thought about it. What should I call him then, since there is a ban on the V-name?” </p><p>“Dunno,” Harry said, “I like calling him Tom. Makes him ordinary, just like any of us. Plus, he hates his given name, his <em> Muggle </em> name, so it’s perfect.” </p><p>“<em>Tom</em>,” Draco repeated, “Feels really weird calling him that, but I suppose that’s all the more reason to do it.” </p><p>They sat in silence for a little while, both wrapped tightly in their blankets as the cold night air tried seeping into their bones. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said eventually, breaking the silence, eyes soft as Draco met them in the dim porch light. “I promised I would protect you and then I didn’t and you had to go back to that house. I was wrong, and I realised it as soon as I turned the corner after our fight but when I came back it was too late.” </p><p>“It’s fine, Potter,” Draco told him, idly picking at some fluff on his blanket. “I know how it looked and I wouldn’t have trusted me either.” </p><p>Potter frowned, looking distinctly unhappy. Draco <em> hated </em> it. Potter wasn’t supposed to look like that, <em> ever</em>, and least of all because of <em> him</em>.</p><p>“It’s not fine, though, is it? They hurt you!” </p><p>Draco shrugged.</p><p>“So? You want to compare scars, Potter? I made some poor choices over the years and I had to suffer the consequences. It’s not your fault.” </p><p>“Feels like it is,” Harry said quietly, averting his eyes, “I worried about you all summer, and the whole time we were on the run.” </p><p>Draco hated that even more, but at the same time he felt warm all over at the confession. </p><p>“Aw, Potty, do you <em> care </em> about me?” </p><p>He meant to sound smug about it, teasing, but somehow it didn’t quite come out that way. Still, Potter seemed to understand.</p><p>“You wish, Malfoy,” he said with a grin, and it was really all that needed to be said between them. </p><p> </p><p>They kept sitting on the porch together for awhile longer, talking about Quidditch and books, and Muggle things Draco had never even heard of. Nothing too heavy; they‘d both had enough of that in the last 24 hours. </p><p>Eventually, Potter decided that Draco absolutely <em> had </em> to listen to his Muggle music, so they moved inside the cottage and huddled together on the couch with some weird Muggle contraption that Potter called a “<em>discman </em>”.</p><p>“Why is it called that?” Draco asked, “It sounds <em> weird</em>.” </p><p>“Because you put your CDs in and it will play the music that is saved on them.”</p><p>Potter opened a rather colourful plastic case and pulled out a shiny, thin sort of disc. </p><p>“Oh! So this disc thing is a <em> CD </em> and you put that in - <em> discman</em>. Got it,” Draco said a bit dumbly, feeling warm all over when he saw Potter direct a rather brilliant smile at him. </p><p>“Alright, so you put this in your ear,” Potter explained and handed Draco some sort of string with a weirdly shaped ending. He eyed it suspiciously but did as Potter said. It felt slightly uncomfortable, but in a way he knew he would soon get used to. Potter put the second ending in his own ear, pressed a button on the <em> discman </em> and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin when music started playing directly into his ear. </p><p>“How does this work? Are you sure it’s not magic?” Draco asked, baffled, when his heart rate had slowed down a little. </p><p>Potter chuckled. </p><p>“I am. It’s Muggle technology. They <em> are </em> quite clever, you know? There is a tiny energy source in there, so I don’t have to plug it in. And the energy source makes the thing in the middle spin the CD and it reads the music saved on it. I’m not an expert on technology so I don’t actually know how it works exactly but it does.” </p><p>Draco gaped a bit dumbly at the Muggle invention in Potter’s hands. His father had always taught him Muggles were inferior; he’d never once told him how they had found fascinating ways to get around not having magic. A Wireless of sorts with strings leading directly into your ears that played only the music you wanted it to play? It was rather ingenious. </p><p>“Plug it in?” </p><p>Potter snorted.</p><p>“Ah yes, didn’t take Muggle Studies, did you?” </p><p>Draco scoffed.</p><p>“Of course not.” His appalled sneer was more habit than opinion now. </p><p>“When all this is over I’ll give you a class on Muggle inventions. Or… no, actually I think Hermione would enjoy that very much.” </p><p>With a start, Draco found he was not as averse to the idea as he’d expected. Who knew what else the Muggles had come up with to make up for their inferiority? </p><p>Potter hummed along to the song playing into their ears, head popping along to the rhythm. It was rather noisy, but in a way that stirred something within Draco. It was a strange feeling he’d never experienced before, but good in a way he felt was easy to get addicted to. Potter seemed to feel the same way, judging by his closed eyes and the faint, content smile on his lips. </p><p>“This is a band called <em> Green Day,” </em> Potter explained. “I’ve been listening to them since I was like 14, probably. … <em> secretly, </em> though. The Dursleys didn’t really let me out of the house that much, so I had to sneak out more often than not. I would go to record stores and just listen to music there. Or sometimes I would steal Dudley’s discman when he wasn’t around, though his taste in music wasn’t that great, really. Anyway. This song is called <em> Burnout </em> and it’s always been one of my favourites because I guess I could relate to the lyrics?” Harry babbled on, but Draco was too engrossed in the music to give him his full attention. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Apathy has rained on me, now I'm feeling like a soggy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Dream, so close to drowning but I don't mind </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I've lived inside this mental cave, throw my emotions in the </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Grave, hell, who needs them anyway </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He’d never really listened to much music before. The Wizarding World didn’t have small portable players, and while Draco owned a gramophone, he’d never found much access to most Wizarding music. Not the kind his father allowed anyway. This, however, spoke to him in a way he’d never experienced before. It wasn’t just the music itself, though he enjoyed the melodies and the words, and the strange, addictive stirring in his core, it was also a whole new sensation to have it play directly into his ear like that. </p><p>“This is amazing,” he said and actually meant it when the song ended and another one started. “Seriously, how is this a <em> Muggle </em> invention? I can hardly believe it.”</p><p>“It’s also Muggle music,” Potter added, chuckling, “They have a lot of great music. Trust me. Maybe it’s because they’re so many, or because they have to be more creative with stuff by nature, I don’t know - but their art is something else. Okay, check this out…” Potter changed the disc to one he took from a blue case and soon a deep scratchy voice filled Draco’s ears.</p><p>“This song made me think of you rather a lot recently,” he said, and Draco felt a small spike of fear of what Potter could possibly mean by that. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Come as you are, as you were </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As I want you to be </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As a friend, as a friend </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As an known enemy </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Take your time, hurry up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The choice is yours, don't be late </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Take a rest as a friend </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As an old </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Memoria, memoria </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Memoria, memoria </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Draco took a deep breath and let out one of relief. He could hear what Potter meant. It was him in a nutshell, really, from Potters point of view anyway. </p><p>“It’s a band called <em> Nirvana</em>,” Potter said, scooting a little closer as he tried to make out the reaction on Draco’s face. </p><p>“Was I? Late?” Draco asked contemplatively. </p><p>Potter shrugged.</p><p>“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Yeah…” Draco’s thoughts drifted to his mother again. He knew she must feel like he betrayed her. Or maybe she was just glad he got the hell out of that house. He couldn’t tell, because as much as he loved his mother, she had never been very open with him - neither honest nor openly affectionate. She loved him dearly, Draco had no doubt she did, but his father had always stood between them. </p><p>“Are you thinking about your Mum?” Harry asked quietly. Draco nodded. </p><p>They were listening to another band now, but Harry had stopped his commenting in favour of tending to Draco’s ever changing mood. </p><p>“She’ll be fine, I honestly think so. I’m sorry we couldn’t get her out, and I realise Tom is an absolute madman we can’t apply any logic to… but as long as she remains loyal to him, she should be fine, right?” </p><p>“I think so,” Draco said quietly, “It’s just… <em> hard</em>, you know? Growing up, I <em> worshipped </em> my parents, especially my father. Accepting that he wasn’t worthy of that worship… that I could never reach his expectations of me, and that he was cruel when there was no need to be… and that I <em> couldn’t </em> agree with him any longer. He caused me so much pain but… it was difficult. My mother knew I was on the fence about my loyalties long before you decided to jump on my case. Sometimes I think she is, too. She loves my father, though, despite all his flaws. I don’t think she would ever leave him voluntarily.” </p><p>“Not even for you?” </p><p>Draco picked at some fluff on his blanket.</p><p>“I’m not sure, to be completely honest.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I know who I want to take me home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Take me home </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Closing time  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end,” Draco repeated the last line of the song they’d just finished listening to. It was a curious thing to say, but true nonetheless. “Those Muggles are much wiser than they look.” </p><p>Potter rolled his eyes.</p><p>“They look exactly like us, Draco.” </p><p>Draco put on a fake frown.</p><p>“Do they? Can’t say I ever spent much time looking at them.” </p><p>He laughed heartily when Potter whacked him on the arm. He grinned back at him, and Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so peaceful, at least for a little while. </p><p> </p><p>Draco was woken by a rather undignified grunt the next morning. His limbs ached in strange places, and it took him entirely too long to realise he had his arms wrapped around someone else’s waist, his head resting on their chest. He couldn’t even remember going to bed, let alone cuddling up with - well, it could only be Potter, couldn’t it? They must have fallen asleep on the couch together, which also explained the Muggle contraption wedged between them and poking painfully into Draco’s ribs.  </p><p>Potter was already awake, likely the source of the grunting, and when Draco looked up he saw Granger standing there with her hands on her hips, face undecided between a smile and a frown. </p><p>Draco tried to sit up, but his limbs were so entangled with Potter’s, he only ended up kneeing him in the balls and falling back down onto his chest. Potter groaned in pain.</p><p>“Ow, Malfoy— I know you haven’t got your revenge yet but one would consider this a rather low blow.” </p><p>Draco snorted. </p><p>“You <em> wish </em> I had dealt you a low blow,” he said with a suggestive smirk, eyebrow raised as he propped up his chin on Potter’s chest to see his face. The git blushed as quickly as Draco hoped he would and Granger cleared her throat in a put on fashion. </p><p>“You guys are adorable,” she commented and Draco laughed, squirming when Potter poked him in the side. It quickly turned into a tickle and poking fight, and Draco wasn’t sure who produced the most undignified yelps and giggles. He saw Granger head towards the kitchen in the corner of his eye, shaking her head, but was too focussed on winning this tickle match against Potter to really pay any attention to her. </p><p>He was about to attack Potter with a bite to his neck when the git yanked up Draco’s shirt to put his freezingly cold palm against his stomach, causing him to startle and yelp, just so managing to grab Potter as he was tumbling to the floor with a thud, pulling the git right down with him. </p><p>Draco laughed like an idiot even as his back hurt and he felt sort of warm all over when Potter joined, burying his face in Draco’s neck. He couldn’t remember if he had ever felt such unhinged joy before. It was as absurd as it was delightful. </p><p>“What the fuck is going on here?” Weasley’s voice interrupted their match just when Draco was about to take it up again, and he groaned as he stretched his neck to see him standing in the doorway, arms crossed. </p><p>Potter sat up, straddling Draco’s hips, laughter fading as he was looking at Weasley, and Draco followed suit, joy quickly replaced by apprehension. Granger was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup in her hand, watching the scene rather bemusedly. </p><p>“Ron!” Harry whined, “I was totally winning, I can’t believe you would sabotage me like that.” </p><p>“Oh, you were absolutely <em> not</em>,” Draco said, feigning indignation. </p><p>Ginny chose that moment to enter the living room behind Weasley, barely batting an eyelash as she saw Potter and Draco still half tangled up on the floor. </p><p>“Morning, lads,” she said rather cheerily and joined Granger at the kitchen table. </p><p>Weasley stared after her, incredulity written all over his face. </p><p>“Excuse me? Am I the only one here who thinks it’s weird that Harry and <em> Malfoy </em> are rolling around on the floor together first thing in the morning?” he asked, looking like it took him a great amount of effort to not straight up splutter. </p><p>“We’re right here, Ron,” Harry said, but Weasley ignored him in favour of looking at the two girls at the table. </p><p>Ginny just shrugged and reached for the kettle to pour herself a cup of tea. </p><p>“Seen worse,” she said with a grin, waggling her eyebrows, and Draco had the sudden urge to poke his tongue out at her. </p><p>Granger barely looked up from the book she was engrossed in, glancing from Potter and Draco over to Weasley.</p><p>“They’re always fighting or rivalling over some thing or another, aren’t they? This is hardly anything new.” </p><p>“But they were <em> laughing</em>,” Weasley pointed out like it was the most appalling thing he had ever heard and Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Well, they’re friends now, aren’t they?” Granger said, eyes back on her book. </p><p>Weasley turned back to stare at him and Potter, and Draco was so close to doing something drastic he would probably regret. Like kiss Potter, right there in front of his indignant Weasel friend. </p><p>“I swear to god, Potter. Lend your Weasel some brain cells, will you?” </p><p>Potter slapped his shoulder before grabbing it to push himself up from the ground. He squeezed gently before letting go and shoving Weasley out of the room. </p><p>Draco faintly wondered what he was going to tell him, but then there was a biscuit hitting him square in the head and he turned his attention to Ginny instead.</p><p> </p><p>++H++ </p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on, Harry? I feel like everyone is in on something here and I’m the only one left out,” Ron said the moment Harry had closed the door of their shared guest room behind them. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, thinking. He knew Ron was right, of course, but at the same time he was afraid of his reaction, especially when Harry had trouble giving him the explanation he’d surely want. </p><p>He let out a breath and threw his hands up in the air. <em> To hell with it.  </em></p><p>“Draco and I—”</p><p>Ron jumped up from where he’d sat down on his bed, wildly waving his hands around.</p><p>“No, no, no, no, Harry. No.”</p><p>“I haven’t even said anything yet,” Harry said a little defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest. </p><p>“’<em>Draco and I’ </em> - really, Harry? <em> ”  </em></p><p>Harry huffed, quickly growing more and more frustrated with his friend, and they hadn’t even really started talking yet. </p><p>“You know, Hermione said I shouldn’t tease you about your little <em> obsession </em>. She said I should just keep quiet because you were clearly going through something. What is it, Harry?” </p><p>Taking another deep breath, Harry met Ron’s eyes.</p><p>“I think I might be gay,” he said finally, “Or bi. Not quite sure yet.” </p><p>Ron dropped back down onto the bed, surprise evident on his face. To be fair, Harry had surprised himself with his own confession. He hadn’t talked to anyone about his most quiet thoughts and suspicions about his sexuality before, had barely even actively thought about it himself. And yet there it was, hanging in the air between him and his best mate. </p><p>“Bloody hell, Harry!” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“I thought maybe you’d say something like… I’m not actually sure what I expected, to be honest.” </p><p>Harry bit his lip, insecurity turning into a faint blush that warmed his cheek and let his heart beat just a little faster. </p><p>“Do you have a problem with it?” he asked, feeling a strong urge to hit himself over the head even as he did.</p><p>“Of course not! What the fuck, Harry? You’re my best mate, I don’t care who you’re snogging—” Ron paused, growing increasingly pale as the wheels were turning in his head. Then he looked back up at Harry, eyebrows raised. “You’re snogging Malfoy, aren’t you?” he deadpanned. </p><p>Harry smiled dumbly and raised his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged?” </p><p>Ron looked faintly sick now, a light green taint between his freckles. </p><p>“<em>Merlin</em>, Harry, we should really have a serious conversation about <em> taste</em>. What’s gotten into you? <em> Malfoy</em>, of all people.” </p><p>Harry grinned a bit dumbly, shrugging. </p><p>“Have you <em> seen </em> him, though?”</p><p>It was hardly a secret that Draco was attractive, despite their complicated history. </p><p>“<em>Harry</em>!” Ron whined. </p><p>“Didn’t you say yourself that I’m <em> obsessed </em> with him only two minutes ago?” </p><p>“Yeah! But that’s different, you were always <em>obsessed—</em>” Ron stopped again, looking like he’d just had another big epiphany, “Fucking <em>hell</em>, Harry, please tell me this is a recent development? Clearly you’ve been crushing on him for <em>years…</em> <em>Merlin</em>, it all makes so much sense now.” </p><p>He’d been <em> what </em> now? Harry gaped at Ron, dumbfounded.</p><p>“I have <em> not </em> been crushing on him for years!” </p><p>Ron looked at him rather dubiously. </p><p>“I have <em> not</em>! I couldn’t stand him and later he was up to something!” Harry repeated. </p><p>Ron clapped him on the shoulder in a sympathetic gesture, like Harry was a bit slow in the head.</p><p>“And yet you’re <em> snogging </em> him now,” his friend said, wrinkling his nose. “Look. I can’t say I get what you see in the bloody ferret, but you’re my best mate, Harry. If he makes you… <em> happy</em>, I’m not going to say anything.” </p><p>Ron looked slightly pained saying it, but he attempted a reassuring smile anyway, and Harry couldn’t help feeling fond of him for it. He knew Ron couldn’t stand Malfoy, and he had enough reason not to. As did Harry, and yet there was something about the git that made him feel things no one else could. Plus, he had changed. One would have to be blind as well as deaf to not see the way Draco had started questioning his entire upbringing, the way he’d made an effort to open his mind. </p><p>“I don’t know what he makes me yet, Ron. It’s not like I’ve forgotten the years of taunts and insults,” Harry said, “He’s a good kisser, though,” he added with a grin. </p><p>Ron scrunched up his nose and made retching noises as he shoved Harry. </p><p>“Honestly, I hope I never have to see that.” </p><p>Harry laughed.</p><p>“No promises.” </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>Hermione told Draco all about the Horcruxes while Potter was off calming the Weasel down in another room somewhere. </p><p>“Horcruxes!” Draco exclaimed the moment she had finished catching him up on their mission. He shuddered, horrified. “That <em> mad </em> son of a bitch!” </p><p>“You know what they are?” Hermione asked curiously.</p><p>“Yeah… I’ve read about them before. My father owns rather a lot of books about dark magic and I’ve spent a lot of summers bored at the manor. I never thought anyone would actually be insane enough to create <em> one </em> Horcrux, though, let alone <em> six</em>.” </p><p>Draco wrapped his hands around his hot cup of tea, letting the heat distract him from thinking about ...<em>Tom </em> trying to make himself immortal by ripping his soul apart into six pieces. It explained a lot about the ruthlessness in his actions. </p><p>“Yeah. What we know is that the diary your father slipped Ginny in second year was one of them. Harry unknowingly destroyed it with one of the basilisk’s teeth in the Chamber of Secrets. Then there was a ring that originally belonged to You-Know-Who’s grandfather. Dumbledore destroyed it. The third we know of was Salazar Slytherin’s locket. We destroyed that one with Gryffindor’s sword shortly after Christmas. So there are three more left. We need to figure out what they are and where to find them.” </p><p>“My <em> father </em> had one of the Horcruxes?” Draco shuddered again. Not that he was surprised his father would hoard a piece of his <em> precious </em> Lord’s soul that’s been drenched in dark magic, really. </p><p>“And deliberately gave it to Ginny knowing it would kill her, yes. Did you know he also tried to kill Harry in second year, after he freed Dobby?” Hermione said sourly, but quickly recovered and schooled her features to sympathy. Draco <em> hated </em> it. </p><p>He closed his eyes for a moment before turning to Ginny, looking at her apologetically. </p><p>Suddenly it seemed even more miraculous that she’d ever given him a chance in the first place. But Draco wasn’t his father. </p><p>“Gin…” he started, but Ginny’s hand already covered his and she leaned forward to look at him in a way Draco could only describe as <em> caring </em>.</p><p>“It’s not your fault, Draco. It wasn’t you.” </p><p>Draco bit his quivering lip. This was <em> horrible</em>. He wondered if he would always feel responsible for his father’s crimes.</p><p>“I <em> loathe </em> him so much. My father. I grew up admiring him, though, and a part of me still does. It’s like I can’t help it. I still… I still love him.” Draco felt a sudden urge to Incendio himself, but he forced himself to continue anyway. “But the things he’s done and the fact that I had to get this ugly mark because of him… I can’t forgive him and I can’t condone his actions anymore, but I still feel responsible.” </p><p>“Well, he <em> is </em> your Dad. Most people are naturally inclined to love their parents, even if that love sometimes fades because of what they do or who they are,” Ginny said with a sense of wisdom way beyond her years. </p><p>Hermione looked at him sympathetically. It was still absolutely <em> dreadful </em> to have <em> Hermione Granger's </em> sympathy, but it was far from the strangest thing Draco had experienced since his bathroom encounter with Potter the year before. </p><p>“If it helps, I forgive you for everything you’ve said and done when we were younger,” she said. “You can’t choose your parents, mind the irony here, and you can’t choose what they teach you. But it seems like you’ve come around last minute, you apologised and you saved me from Bellatrix. So we’re okay, Draco.” </p><p>Draco gave her the tiniest bit of a smile, still too hung up on his own feelings of guilt. </p><p>“I just wish I could take it all back,” he said finally, finding that he meant it with every last bit of his heart. He cringed looking back at the way he had behaved growing up, the things he’d said and done just because his father had told him so or because he wanted to be like him so bad he straight up copied him. Back then, it had seemed innocent enough. He hadn’t had any idea of consequences or the realties his views entailed. It had all seemed far away, unreachable. Until it wasn’t. And Draco had to learn the hard way that he didn’t actually share his father’s ideologies, that he wasn’t ready to kill and cause pain to support them. He had to learn that things weren’t as easy as they had always seemed to him growing up, and that his father was fundamentally flawed and put his own interests above everything else. Potter had told him about Diggory; the way his father had stood by, happy to see an innocent teenage boy die just because he’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Draco had felt sick for two days after, the thought weighing on his insides like rocks. He’d seen his father kill and torture before, too, though, and it pained him greatly that he’d been expected to be just like him. </p><p>But Draco wasn’t. He’d always been more sensitive, so much so that his father had mocked him for it quite frequently growing up. He was no killer, and he couldn’t be the son of one. </p><p>He felt Ginny wrap her arms around him from behind, hand rubbing his chest in a comforting gesture as she hugged him as tightly as she could with him sitting down and her standing behind him. Draco hadn’t even noticed her getting up. </p><p>“My Mum always said guilt is meant to make us better people but dwelling on it makes us bitter. Don’t let your own guilt distract you from what’s important, Draco,” Hermione told him firmly. </p><p>“She’s right,” Ginny agreed close to his ear, “The present and future are more important than our past.”</p><p>There was a light laugh escaping his lips, despite himself.</p><p>“You two are almost unbearable with your wisdom,” he said, “You’re supposed to be teenage girls, how is it you always know that to say? I feel like an idiot next to you.” </p><p>Ginny squeezed him, chuckling.</p><p>“That’s because you aaare,” she sing-songed and Draco reached back to poke her. </p><p>She was still hugging him when Harry and the Weasel returned, their laughter fading as all three of them watched them expectantly. </p><p>“Ginny!” Weasel made a face. “Not you, too!” </p><p>“I can’t help my charm, Weasley. Maybe you should just give in, too,” Draco joked and the red head looked distinctly faint at the suggestion. </p><p>“I’ll pass,” he said, the frown on his forehead making him look so stern, Draco had to stop himself from laughing, especially when the Weasel threatened: “If you hurt Harry, you’ll wish you’d stayed with You-Know-Who.” </p><p>Draco raised his eyebrows, trying so hard to keep the corner of his mouth from twitching. </p><p>“All right. I won’t hurt Harry.” </p><p>He met the boy-in-question’s eyes behind Weasley and smiled softly, a fluttering sensation filling his insides when he found it returned. It didn’t escape his notice that he had actually used Potter’s first name for the first time that he could think of; it didn’t really matter that he’d parroted Weasley. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Potter introduced Draco to more Muggle music over the following weeks. It had almost become a routine for them to meet up on the couch when everyone else had gone to bed, sharing headphones (as Potter called them) as they sat huddled together under their blankets. </p><p>“This is a band called <em> Queen</em>,” Potter explained one night, “Their singer died like seven years ago, but their music is still legendary.” </p><p>“Oh,” Draco said, already engrossed in the song that was playing. The melodies and the voice of the singer were simply <em> divine</em>, he couldn’t put it any differently. </p><p>“He was openly gay. I’ve seen him on the telly sometimes when the Dursleys were out. He was amazing. Maybe I can show you once this war is over and we have access to more Muggle things.” </p><p>Draco hummed, trying to hide the way his heart sped up at the words “openly gay” even though he knew there was nothing he had left to hide in front of Potter of all people. He refrained from asking what a <em> telly </em> was, though. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> For we who grew up tall and proud </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In the shadow of the Mushroom Cloud </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Convinced our voices can't be heard </em>
</p><p>
  <em> We just wanna scream it louder and louder and louder </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What the hell are we fighting for? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ah, just surrender and it won't hurt at all </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You just got time to say your prayers </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah, while you're waiting for the hammer to, hammer to fall </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em>What was his name?” Draco asked quietly as he took in the words, the music flowing through his body as he felt his nerve endings vibrate with the beats and melodies. </p><p>“Freddie Mercury,” Potter said. </p><p>Draco had seen too many nameless people die over the past year. He’d always hoped there were people somewhere remembering them. Draco certainly did, even though he didn’t know their names or who they were. </p><p>So when there was someone touching a part of his heart so many years after he’d passed away, Draco felt like it was only right he should know his name.</p><p>“It makes you feel less alone, doesn’t it? The music?” Draco pondered out loud, head dropping onto Potter’s shoulder as he grabbed his hand.  </p><p>“Yeah. There’s nothing quite like it. Finding yourself in a song… realising there are people going through things at the same time as you, and a lot of the times you can relate much better than you thought.” </p><p>They sat in silence for awhile, just listening, and Draco faintly noticed the rain pattering onto the windows as the pulled the blanket a little bit tighter around himself. </p><p>The disc ended eventually and Potter replaced it with a new one. A cream coloured plastic case this time. </p><p>“I think you’re gonna like this one. I’m pretty sure their singer is a witch, to be honest.” </p><p>“Why would you think that?” Draco asked with laugh. Potter shrugged. </p><p>“Just some things she’s said and done over the years. The way she dresses, too. Wicked, that one. Absolutely brilliant. They’re called Fleetwood Mac, and their singer is Stevie Nicks.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Can the child within my heart rise above? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Can I handle the seasons of my life? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mmm </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Well, I've been afraid of changing </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 'Cause I've built my life around you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But time makes you bolder </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even children get older </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I'm getting older, too </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Draco felt the strange urge to look at Potter as they were listening to the song. It was a slower one, softer, filling him with a feeling he couldn’t quite place. When he looked up, though, Potter’s eyes were already on him. </p><p>He leaned in, and then he was kissing Draco, and Draco faintly wondered how pressing his lips against the git's could still take his breath away like that. They hadn’t kissed since the beach, maybe about ten days ago now. Draco was hesitant, unsure if advances were welcome in a house filled to the brim with Weasleys, Grangers, Lovegoods, goblins, wand makers, and pretty french girls. Apparently they were, though, if Potter’s tongue deliciously slipping into his mouth was any clue to go by. Draco kissed him back with fervour, hand coming up to the back of Potter’s neck to keep him close. It felt so good, kissing him, breathing him in, feeling him all around him while the the music served like a bridge between them, setting the mood. Eventually the song ended and a new one started, but Draco had other plans for them now. He pushed his body weight against Potter, nudging him backwards until Potter’s back hit the couch and he could straddle his hips. The headphones slipped out of their ears and Draco carefully placed the CD player aside on the coffee table before returning his attention to the swollen kissed Gryffindor beneath him. </p><p>He welcomed him back with open arms, and the smile on Potter’s face nearly took Draco’s breath away all over again. His eyes looked dark green in the dimly lit living room, and there was a sparkle in them that did things to Draco’s insides. He leaned down to reconnect their lips, almost overwhelmed by the warmth and softness of it all. </p><p>“<em>Harry</em>,” Draco whispered as he breathed against his lips, and he felt him shiver as his hand slipped beneath his jumper. </p><p>Harry chuckled softly, never breaking their kiss.</p><p>“I think his was the first time you actively addressed me by my first name… <em> ever</em>,” he whispered and Draco gave into the urge to poke him. </p><p>“You better not get used to it.” </p><p>Potter squirmed and swatted Draco’s hand away, his own hands grabbing the seam of Draco’s jumper instead. He pulled it off in one smooth movement, halting only when he got a good look at Draco’s bare pale torso. </p><p>Propped up on one elbow, he traced the light pink scars across his chest, just like the first time they’d gone this far, Draco sprawled over a desk in an abandoned Hogwarts classroom, probably about a year ago now. </p><p>“Don’t say it, Potter,” Draco threatened, already seeing the ‘sorry’ form on the Gryffindor’s lips. “You can’t apologise every time you see me naked, alright.” </p><p>Potter raised his eyebrows, smirk pulling at his lips. </p><p>“Naked, huh? That would be a first.” </p><p>Draco whacked his arm, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. </p><p>“Shut it,” he said, trying to ignore the way his cock perked up with interest. Potter noticed, of course, but he wasn’t half disinterested himself, as Draco realised with a start. </p><p>The decision was quickly made. Draco cast a quick wandless Muffliato around them and pulled the blanket up over them as he sat between Potter’s legs. He cast a wandless Lumos as well, to see what he was doing. This was a first, after all. </p><p>Potter wriggled down a bit, forcing Draco to scoot back as he joined him in his little makeshift blanket fort. </p><p>“What are you doing?,” Potter asked, a little breathless. He met Draco’s eyes in the golden light of the glowing globe Draco had conjured, and Draco suddenly had trouble breathing, too. He couldn’t quite believe this was happening. That his teenage fantasies were actually becoming reality, that he was about to… </p><p>“Wandless,” Potter noted, and Draco was grateful for the interruption of his spiralling thoughts before he could ruin this for himself by overthinking and thus panicking and ultimately messing it up. “Impressive.” </p><p>“Yes, well, I had time to practice over the last couple of days since I very generously donated my wand to your cause,” Draco said. He had in fact spent most of his time practicing wandless magic since they arrived at Shell Cottage, until Mr Ollivander had offered making him a new wand, telling him it would take time, though, given that the wandmaker had to make do with what he had at his disposal around the cottage. </p><p>“You can have it back, you know? It’s yours. I’ll be fine, I’m sure I can find another wand or ask Mr Ollivander to make me one,” Potter said, and Draco knew he meant it - which is why he rolled his eyes and shook his head.</p><p>“He’s already making me one. You got a madman to defeat, you can’t possibly attempt destroying him with a makeshift wand. You can give it back once you’re done. Besides, I would find great pleasure in being the rightful owner of the wand that vanquished the Dark Lord for good.” </p><p>Potter looked at him with something Draco couldn’t quite place, but it did strange things to his insides. </p><p>“Alright. If you’re sure.” </p><p>“I am,” Draco assured, “Now if you would kindly shut up, I was trying to go down on you.” </p><p>Potter raised his hands in surrender, eyes widening even as a brilliant grin spread on his lips when Draco pulled down his trousers. Draco had to swallow the urge to poke his tongue out at him and decided to put it to better use by placing tender kisses to the insides of Potter’s thighs. </p><p>His hands were trembling slightly as he cupped Potter’s buttocks to pull him closer, his nose now buried next to his straining cock, covered only by the thin fabric of his pants. </p><p>He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Maybe he should’ve pulled out the Firewhiskey before attempting this. Potter smelled musky, a bit earthy, and like the lemony soap he’d used in the shower.  </p><p>He felt Potter’s hand stroking his hair, fingers running through his strands in a soothing motion. Draco looked up to meet his eyes, and the soft reassurance there was all he needed to see. Taking one last deep breath, he pulled Potter’s pants down and paused as he got the first look at his full, naked glory. Of course Potter would be impressively well <em> hung</em>, there had never been any doubt about it. He was <em> Harry Potter</em>, after all. Draco <em> hated </em> him just as much as he didn’t hate him at all. It was <em> infuriating</em>. </p><p>Draco touched him tenderly, revelling in the feeling of touching a dick that wasn’t his own for the first time in his life. Blaise had offered, a few times. But Draco had been too terrified of what it would imply to give in, what realisations it would entail, so he’d refused every time - and then, when curiosity got the better of him, there was a madman moving into his family home and his life had been over, essentially. So touching Potter of all people now felt like he was finally being revived, like he was breaking through the surface of the ocean and gasping for air. </p><p>Potter moaned when Draco wrapped his hand fully around him and gave an experimental tug. </p><p>“Gods, Draco…,” he panted, “I’m not going to last long. This is the first time anyone…”</p><p>The was a blush spreading high on his cheekbones, looking purple in the golden glow. </p><p>“Yeah… same,” Draco said, comforted to hear they were on the same page. </p><p>He carefully wrapped his lips around him, then, and started experimenting with his tongue, sucking and licking, making <em> Harry </em> writhe around on the couch and moan so loudly, Draco was glad he’d cast the Muffliato before they’d started. His skin felt soft on his tongue and he tasted salty, with a tinge of bitterness and sweetness both at the same time. It was a strange feeling, but Draco loved every second of it, loved the smell and the taste, the way Harry melted away beneath his touch, and he loved the way his brain screamed at him that HE WAS SUCKING OFF HARRY BLOODY POTTER. </p><p>His own arousal was slowly becoming painful, so he adjusted his angle and started rutting against the couch, moaning around Harry when he finally found some friction. </p><p>Harry stayed true to his warning and finished rather quickly, frantically pushing Draco off and coming all over his belly. The sight alone was enough to push Draco over the edge as well, and he came untouched in his trousers like the pathetically horny teenager he was. </p><p>He quickly crawled over Harry to give him a long, deep kiss that made his toes wriggle, before pulling back again and sitting up, observing the mess they’d made and casting a quick wandless <em> Scourgify</em>. </p><p>“That was… that was <em> amazing</em>, Draco,” Potter said, still breathless, “I can’t wait to do that to you.” He sat up, intentions clear in his eyes, but Draco put a hand on his chest to keep him down.</p><p>“Afraid I’m already one step ahead of you,” Draco admitted embarrassedly, “I <em> might </em> have come in my pants.” </p><p>Potter did the worst thing possible at Draco’s shameful admission: he LAUGHED! The utter bastard had the audacity to laugh at him! </p><p>“I’m sorry! I probably would’ve come in my pants too if our roles were reversed,” Potter exclaimed as Draco was swatting at him indignantly, cheeks burning. The absolute <em> bastard</em>. He buried his face in Potter’s neck and lived through his embarrassment calmly as Potter was stroking his back, even though his instinct urged him to lash out and run. It wouldn’t do any good, though, he knew. </p><p>“You think this counts as having sex? I would hate to die a virgin,” Potter said eventually and Draco froze. He took a moment or two to recover before propping himself up to hover above the git, glaring.</p><p>“Why would you say that?” </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That you’re gonna… you won’t <em> die</em>, you twat. I mean… yeah, you <em> might</em>. But we’re all here fighting on your side, risking our lives, don’t you think it’s a little disrespectful to treat this whole matter like it can only result in your certain death?”</p><p>Potter stared at him. </p><p>“I— I guess. That’s not what I mean, though. You said yourself I <em> might </em> die. We all might. And I would hate to die a virgin.” </p><p>Draco took a moment to calm his own temper, the gut wrenching panic that threatened to swallow him whole at the thought of Potter losing his life in this pointless war. He pulled himself together, a small smile forming on his lips.</p><p>“Well, I think it counts. You’ve just been sucked off by a Malfoy, alright? Not many can claim that for themselves.” </p><p>Potter shoved at his shoulder, laughing as he blushed again, colour sitting high on his cheeks and making him look so distinctly alive, Draco couldn’t resist leaning in and pressing a peck to his cheek. </p><p>“Shove off!” Potter laughed, “You’ve been <em> dying </em> to do this for years, probably.” </p><p>Draco shrugged.</p><p>“I have, actually.” </p><p>Potter wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace even as he laughed delightedly. It was so good to hear him laugh in the middle of all the horrors he was going through, and Draco couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to get to have this with him, against all odds. It could all come crashing down around him, Draco knew, and it probably would, but for now he was exactly where he wanted to be, skin on skin with <em> Harry Potter, </em>occupier of all his teenage fantasies.</p><p>“You’re so full of shit, you twat,” Potter laughed more than he said into his hair and Draco held him impossibly tighter. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Songs mentioned in this Chapter:</p><p>Burnout by Green Day<br/>Come As You Are by Nirvana<br/>Closing Time by Semisonic<br/>Hammer To Fall by Queen<br/>Landslide by Fleetwood Mac</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. why do we sleep where we want to hide?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Good Saturday evening, dear readers. I've got a new chapter for you. We're going through these fast, but hell, life is quite hard right now and this story is finished, so why not hand you a daily dose of Drarry goodness, right?</p><p>In this one we got a favour returned, loads of planning, more unlikely friendships, and Remus also makes an appearance. Hope you enjoy! </p><p>Chapter title taken from "Monsters" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was buzzing the whole following week after he’d essentially lost his virginity to <em> Draco Malfoy </em>of all people. He was still itching to return the favour, but the two of them had barely gotten any alone time all week, with Hermione insisting on staying up late to do research into possible Horcruxes and the house being filled to the brim with people and a goblin. He’d managed to pull Draco aside a few times to sneak a kiss or two, but there hadn’t been any time for anything more. He missed their nightly couch dates, the peace and comfort of sitting together, listening to music and talking about things they’d never even considered about each other before. </p><p>Harry had learned that Draco wanted to become a Healer once the war was over - should he survive, the git had unnecessarily added. He’d learned that Draco used to do patrols in the gardens of Malfoy manor when he was little, looking out for animals that might needed his help and practising healing spells on them long before Hogwarts. He’d told him how he’d accidentally killed a badly hurt bird at one of his first attempts and how he’d spent a whole week crying about it until his mother had encouraged him to try again. He’d managed to save a bunny, then, by fixing its broken leg. He’d taken it into his room to keep as a pet, but his father had resented any sort of pet that wasn’t an owl, so when Draco had refused to give it up, Lucius had used the killing curse on it. Draco had told him he’d cried for weeks, and his father had only become more angry, calling him a wimp and a disgrace to the family name when he was merely 8 years old. </p><p>As much as Draco’s stories fuelled Harry’s loathing of Lucius Malfoy, his chest felt warm thinking about the Draco he was beginning to know, the person behind the jabs and insults, the boy beneath the prickly exterior formed to repel and please a cruel father in equal parts. </p><p>He was used to the butterflies by now, so they didn’t startle him as much as they had the first time he’d noticed them. A strange but pleasant fluttering sensation right beneath his rib cage when he looked at Draco, urging him to touch, to kiss, to hold him close and never let him go. He thought maybe he should be suprised by the intensity of it; but then again, his feelings for Draco had never been neutral or tame. He’d despised him with a genuine passion, and now...</p><p>Harry wasn’t an idiot, of course, though some might try to argue otherwise. </p><p>He was falling for the tosser, and hard. </p><p>But he was also in the middle of a war, more people than he could even count were out for his head, and even more had lost their lives because of him. <em> Dumbledore </em> had died believing he could win this for them. </p><p>So he pushed it back. He didn’t allow the thought to enter his mind, didn’t allow it to grow roots there. Because how could he allow himself to be in love when people were dying? How could he put his heart on the line when nothing was certain? </p><p>It was easier to let it be what it was. To let it be complicated, as Hermione had said. </p><p>Draco’s kisses felt like a lifeline. Like an island of peace in the middle of a troubled world. Like a spark of hope on a dark night, leading him safely where he needed to be. </p><p> </p><p>Harry got his turn when everyone else was gathered in the kitchen brainstorming on possible Horcruxes and their locations late into the night. Draco excused himself to the toilet, and Harry knew it was his big chance. He waited, a weak attempt at making his intentions less obvious, as if they hadn’t been walked in on at least once by each of his friends over the past couple of weeks. </p><p>Ginny had interrupted them the day they’d arrived at Shell Cottage; Hermione had walked in on them making out on the couch one night when she’d come down to get a glass of water from the kitchen, merely smiling knowingly and sporting a faint blush when she left; Luna had caught them behind a curtain just the week before, explaining that she’d thought they’d been infiltrated by some sort of ominous magical creatures Harry had never heard of before but urging them to carry on with one of her dreamy smiles; and Ron had walked in on them kissing pressed against a kitchen counter just that morning. They’d squabbled over the correct preparation of a cup of tea and flirted over the eggs Draco didn’t like, and after having gone almost a week without lip locking, they had thrown all caution to the wind and all but jumped each other. Ron had spent a whole hour complaining after, asking Hermione to either <em> Obliviate </em> him or find a way to get rid of the image that had burned itself onto his irises. Hermione had merely told him to stop being dramatic, Harry had sat there blushing with a faint smile on his lips, and Draco had taken the piss by asking Ron if he was jealous. Outraged as his friend had been, the suggestion had certainly shut him up for the rest of the day. </p><p>So he made up a sorry excuse about a question he needed to ask Mr Ollivander, who generally refused to leave his room most of the time. </p><p>He waited in front of the bathroom, ready to jump Draco as soon as he emerged. </p><p>And sure enough, he bounced the moment the door opened, shoving Draco back inside and pushing him up against the door. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Potter. Warn a man next time, will you?” Draco complained half-heartedly, his heartbeat so accelerated, Harry could almost feel it when he pushed himself up against the Slytherin and kissed him hard on the mouth. He cupped Draco’s cheeks, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he moved to kiss his neck, sucking and biting and breathing him in. Draco moaned softly, head lolling back against the door as he closed his eyes, hands wrapped around Harry’s waist. Harry knew he was going to leave a mark, but they weren’t wizards for nothing and right then all he could think about was Draco and how he could make him feel as good as possible.</p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Potter was leaving a mark. Draco could already feel the bruise growing on his neck, and the sensation went straight down south. Not that anything else about their current situation was even remotely straight, he thought faintly, chuckling to himself. </p><p>“What?” Potter asked, looking up from where he was currently kissing his way down Draco’s bare chest. </p><p>“Potter,” Draco growled instead of indulging him, “You were the one who ambushed me, now get on with it.” </p><p>It was Potter’s turn to chuckle then, rolling his eyes but continuing his quest anyway. </p><p>Draco took a sharp breath when the git pulled down his trousers without any warning whatsoever, and he tried to shake the nervousness settling into his bones. He knew he had nothing to be ashamed of, but he had never been naked in front of anyone before, so it felt a bit like flying on a broomstick for the first time.</p><p>“Shhh, Draco,” Harry said when he noticed him trembling beneath his fingertips. “You’re gorgeous, alright? I think you’re bloody gorgeous.” </p><p>And <em> ooooh</em>, fuck. Maybe he had a praise kink, because those words from Potter’s mouth did things to his insides he couldn’t even begin to explain and his nervousness vanished as if it had been spelled away with the flick of a wand.</p><p>Draco moaned rather obscenely when Harry pressed his face against Draco’s crotch, carefully mouthing the tip of his cock through the fabric of his underwear. It was almost too much, and he had to restrain himself from not coming just from the sight of <em> Harry Potter </em> on his knees in front of him, mouth in close proximity to his dick. He’d spent too many nights imagining this and hating himself for it; it was almost surreal that he had it now, just like that. </p><p>Harry pulled his pants down in an agonisingly slow movement, placing tender kisses down Draco’s hips and the insides of his thighs.</p><p>Breathing heavily, Draco braced himself on the wall next to the door, almost screaming ecstatically when Harry finally took him in his mouth. It was all he needed to know that his was real; none of his fantasies had come even close to the reality of what he was feeling, he way pleasure rippled through him in seemingly endless waves and he felt warm all over, the butterflies springing back life to underneath his ribcage. </p><p>Harry was a bit sloppy and awkward at times, just like his kisses, but that just made it all the better for Draco. It just proved that this was <em> Potter</em>, the stupid slob of a boy he’d come to care about so much Draco wasn’t sure he would survive losing him again. </p><p>Harry licked and sucked and twirled his tongue like Draco was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and it wasn’t long until Draco felt that heat building up low in his belly. He pushed Harry off and pulled him up to kiss him deeply as he came, moaning into the kiss and riding the after waves with his face pressed against Harry’s neck. Draco held onto him like he might just evaporate like a dream if he let him go. </p><p>“If you’d told me last year I would give someone a blowjob, never mind <em> you </em> of all people, I would’ve hexed them into next week while laughing my face off,” Harry said, giggling rather idiotically.</p><p>“I don’t believe that for a second,” Draco said as he pulled away to give Potter an incredulous look. “Maybe if they’d told you it was <em> me</em>, yeah, but you can’t tell me you never like… <em> wanked </em> to this?” </p><p>Potter blushed deliciously, biting his lip and earning a kiss from Draco for it. </p><p>“I mean… <em> yeah</em>… just… I tried not to, I guess.” There was a frown on his face now, as if he was just now realising something about himself. Draco decided not to pry on his self-discovery and pulled him in for another short kiss instead. </p><p>“We should go back to the others before Granger hexes us for not helping,” Draco said, and Harry nodded, seemingly still thrown by whatever realisation he’d just had. </p><p> </p><p>The others were still gathered in the kitchen when he and Harry returned, not even bothering to pretend they hadn’t just snuck off for a make out session. </p><p>“Hope you had fun, lads,” Ginny said with a grin when they both sat down, “Nice hickey. I guess you deserve wearing that like a trophy for managing to seduce Harry.” </p><p>“Oi!” Harry protested, “How can you be so certain it wasn’t <em> me </em> who did the seducing?” </p><p>Ginny merely snorted bemusedly, Granger rolled her eyes in an annoyed but strangely fond manner, and Weasley looked like he was going to be sick. </p><p>Draco considered casting a quick healing spell over the hickey Potter had - apparently - left on his neck, but one glance at him looking all coy and flushed quickly changed his mind. He was sort of proud to sport evidence of Potter’s more passionate affections, thank you very much.</p><p>“Anyway,” Granger said, “While you two were off snogging, I found this portrait of Helga Hufflepuff in a book.” She showed an old and rather dusty looking book around. “See the cup she’s holding? Apparently it was one of her most treasured belongings. Now, we know You-Know-Who favoured valuable objects that once belonged to the founders of Hogwarts for his Horcruxes. I think this could be it.” </p><p>Draco reached across the table to get a closer look at this cup, mind starting to race the moment he laid eyes on it. He’d seen this cup before, he was sure of it. It must’ve been a few years ago, but he clearly remembered it standing in the middle of various other objects, right in front of a damp stone wall, the dim lighting gleaming off its edges. Bellatrix’s Gringotts vault. </p><p>He gasped.</p><p>“I’ve seen this cup before,” Draco said calmly, “It’s in Bellatrix’s vault at Gringotts. She used to take me there sometimes, said it was necessary I got a good look at the family fortune on my mother’s side. I’m certain I have seen it there.” </p><p>The Gryffindors stared at him wide eyed and with varying degrees of disbelief. </p><p>“Well, that would explain why she got so angry when she thought you were in her vault, Hermione,” Potter said. Granger nodded, eyes still on Draco. </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em>, Draco? Because we can’t attempt breaking into Gringotts if you aren’t absolutely sure.” </p><p>“I’m sure.” </p><p>Draco <em> was </em> sure. He distinctly remembered the way his eyes had been drawn to the cup, remembered traces of dark magic he could sense. </p><p>“We gotta talk to Griphook,” Potter announced confidently, already getting up. Draco wondered if he always wore this determined look on his face when a plan was starting to form. He didn’t doubt for a second that they would attempt breaking into Gringotts, stupid <em> reckless </em> Gryffindors, and it terrified him just as much as it gave him hope. </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>“It has to be me,” Draco repeated, voice calm and filled with confidence he didn’t have. </p><p>“I don’t know, Draco. They know you’re with us, surely they would warn them that you might come and try getting into Bellatrix’s vault,” Harry argued. He looked so worried, Draco wanted to hug and punch him in equal measures. </p><p>“Which is why I won’t be going as me,” Draco said, holding up a small vial. “When the Dar— <em> Tom </em> moved into the manor, I knew that it was very likely I would have to flee one day, get out undetected, so I gathered hair from Lucius to use Polyjuice potion if necessary. I know my father  best, I know how he behaves in certain situations. It has to be me.”</p><p>Granger nodded, looking like she was deep in thought. </p><p>“He’s right, Harry. Draco is the only one who has actually seen the cup and he’s… well, he’s the most adapted to Death Eater circles.” She looked at him apologetically. “Rather ingenious, by the way. That you’re carrying a hair sample around in case you need it. It comes in very handy now.” </p><p>“I think it’s a good plan,” Weasley agreed. “It would make sense for Bellatrix to come with Lucius, wouldn’t it? And Malfoy obviously knows them best. I say let’s do it.” </p><p>Potter squeezed Draco’s hand under the table and sighed, running a hand through his hair. Draco knew Potter couldn’t argue with them, once he and Granger had found the most reasonable solution to something, there was no swaying them. </p><p>“Are you sure you want to do this, Draco? It’s going to be dangerous.” </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Pointing out the obvious again, are we, Potter? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been in danger ever since some noseless maniac moved into my family home. If we can get closer to defeating him by breaking into bloody Gringotts, then so be it. Do I like it? No. Do I <em> want </em> to do this? No. But I <em> have to</em>. I ran away from danger all my life and look at where it got me.”</p><p>Draco stared at Potter, eyes narrowed indignantly, challenging him to argue. But Potter didn’t. Instead he leaned in and kissed him, right on the mouth, right in front of all his friends. </p><p>“Potter!” Draco hissed when he pulled back, but the git merely shrugged and grinned, not even having the decency to blush. </p><p>“Harry!” Weasley whined. “Why do you keep doing this to me? No <em> Obliviate </em> will ever be enough to unsee this once, never mind <em> twice </em> and that’s EXCLUDING THE HICKEY.” </p><p>“What?” Potter asked innocently. “Did you hear him? That was <em> hot</em>.” </p><p>Weasley made an unhappy retching sound, Granger giggled, and to Draco’s dismay, he blushed furiously while Potter still looked like he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary at all. Leave it to Potter to have some sort of misguided hero kink. </p><p>“Of course you’d be drawn to ill-advised bouts of bravery,” Draco commented with a roll of his eyes. He aimed for annoyance, but he knew it must’ve been more on the fond side. “Stupid fucking Gryffindor,” he muttered. </p><p>Potter laughed, and Draco noted that down as a win. </p><p>“All right. So I’m using this hair Bellatrix left on my hoodie when she interrogated me, Draco uses Lucius’s hair, and Ron is wearing a glamour to make him look more like a Death Eater. Harry’s following with Griphook under the invisibility cloak. If all goes smoothly, they will lead us directly to the vault,” Granger said, nodding right along with herself as she was speaking.  </p><p>“We might have to use the Imperius anyway,” Draco pointed out, “It’s very likely Bellatrix warned them of any attempts to get into her vault. They’re going to ask for her wand as identification.” </p><p>“But we got her wand, right? So it’s fine,” Weasley said. </p><p>“No, you <em> dimwit</em>,” Draco spat, biting his lip when Potter shot him a glare. He sighed. “Obviously Bellatrix would’ve warned them about the loss of her wand. It would serve to identify us as the enemy. Of course we can’t be completely certain, but making an whole act about them KNOWING we don’t have it is our best shot. If it doesn’t work, the Imperius it is.” </p><p>Granger nodded.</p><p>“Good thinking. So we have a plan?” </p><p>“It would appear so,” Draco said, faintly wondering if all the torture had addled his brain for agreeing to be part of their brash<em> foolish </em> Gryffindor shenanigans. He supposed it was worth it if it brought them closer to ridding the world of the Dark Lord once and for all, though, especially if not even trying would end with his death anyway. The days of being a coward like his father had to be over, one way or another. </p><p> </p><p>Later that day, Draco was making tea in the kitchen when he suddenly found himself at wand point from their former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Lupin. The man’s eyes travelled from Draco’s exposed Dark Mark back up to his face, and Draco barely had time to dodge the jinx when it came. Fucking hell. It appeared Potter had failed to inform his fellow Order members of Draco’s change of allegiances, and <em> of course </em> Draco had to be alone in the kitchen when one of them arrived at the cottage. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d also rolled up his sleeves, which is something he rarely did to begin with. Looking at the mark wasn’t exactly something he found pleasure in. Cursing, Draco dodged another jinx and suddenly regretted refusing to take Bellatrix’s wand and waiting for the makeshift one from Ollivander instead. </p><p>“What are you doing here?” Lupin spat, pointing his wand while Draco was cowering behind the kitchen island. “What have you done to them?” </p><p>“Good <em> grief</em>. Nothing. For Merlin’s sake. <em> Potter! </em>” he yelled. “Ginny, Granger, Weasley?! Anyone?!” </p><p>He hoped to Salazar they hadn’t all decided to go out to the beach at the same time.</p><p>“Potter!” he yelled again. </p><p>He almost fell over when Potter came rushing into the kitchen, looking alarmed. Relief washed over him as he pulled himself back up, breathing heavily. </p><p>“Draco! Did something happen? What— <em> Remus? </em>” </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes.</p><p>“It appears you forgot to warn the rest of your minions about me.” </p><p>Potter crossed the kitchen to stand next to Draco, wand raised in case his friend tried to hex Draco again. </p><p>“They aren’t my <em> minions</em>,” he hissed. </p><p>“Whatever. He’s still pointing his wand at me. Remind me to take Bellatrix’s, alright?” </p><p>“I thought you didn’t want it!” </p><p>“Yeah well, I didn’t expect to be attacked while making tea, did I?” </p><p>Lupin had watched their exchange silently, wand steadily pointed at Draco’s chest. </p><p>“What creature sat in the corner the first time Harry Potter visited my office at Hogwarts?” he asked Potter. Draco understood his caution, he really did, but it still inconvenienced him, and he <em> hated </em>being inconvenienced. </p><p>“A Grindylow,” Potter answered calmly, “Look, Remus—”</p><p>“Harry, step away from him,” Lupin demanded firmly. Potter didn’t move, and Draco rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Remus—”</p><p>“He has you under the Imperius… <em> Priori Incantatem</em>!” </p><p>Potter sighed, and Draco was seriously losing his patience.</p><p>“Would you just listen to him!” he snapped. “I didn’t<em> Imperius </em> him!” </p><p>Lupin blinked, wand unwaveringly pointed at Draco. </p><p>“I’m not under the Imperius, Remus. Draco’s with us. I told you he switched sides last year, remember? Things got a bit derailed at the end, but he helped getting us out of Malfoy manor. He’s not a Death Eater.” </p><p>Lupin regarded them, still not making any move to lower his wand. </p><p>“Harry. Have you seen his arm? He can’t be trusted. I know you think you might know him, but you can’t trust anyone who once saw fit taking <em> his </em> mark.” </p><p>Draco swallowed the knot forming in his throat. What if Potter chose to believe his mentor? What if he decided to toss him out after all? Rationally he knew he wouldn’t just discard of him, especially since Draco knew all about the Horcrux hunt. It wasn’t enough to stop him from panicking, though. His breathing grew heavy and he had to hold himself up on the small kitchenette, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe through it. </p><p>“Draco,” Harry said softly, a hand coming up to rub his back, “Draco, it’s okay. You’re safe here, just breathe.” </p><p>Draco tightened his hands around the edges of the counter, panic making his mind race like a Firebolt on full speed. He felt dizzy, vision swimming as he was pulled into a tight hug. </p><p>“Breathe,” Harry said again, “It’s okay. We know you didn’t take it voluntarily. We know you aren’t here to spy.” </p><p>His words were pointed, and Draco could only imagine he was looking at Lupin over Draco’s shoulder. Eventually his breathing evened out as he was holding onto Harry, focussing on his smell, on the way his chest moved in sync with his breathing. </p><p>“You mean like you trusted Snape?” Harry asked indignantly when Draco felt steady enough to pull away. </p><p>“You‘ve seen where that got us! They can’t be trusted,” Lupin insisted. </p><p>“I’m sorry, but did you <em> see </em> how your words affected him just now? He’s a victim like any of us! He was a <em> kid</em>. He didn’t have a choice.” </p><p>Draco scoffed. </p><p>“It’s okay, Potter. He has no reason to trust me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m putting you all in danger by being here.” </p><p>Harry ignored him. </p><p>“Draco proved himself on more than one occasion,” he said instead, “I trust him.” </p><p>“<em>Harry…</em>” Draco said weakly, swallowing hard, and Harry snapped his head around. </p><p>“Stop being stupid, Draco! We need you here. <em> I </em> need you here.” </p><p>His eyes were so soft and Draco felt his heart clench. He would die for this boy. The realisation hit him like a bucket of icy water. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life. If necessary, he would die for this <em> horrible </em> Gryffindor, messy hair, ridiculous scar and cheap glasses and all. It was a terrifyingly major realisation for someone who had never really been brave in his life. </p><p>Granger chose that moment to investigate the noise in the kitchen, freezing in the doorframe and staring between them.</p><p>“What’s going on here?” she asked.</p><p>“Remus thinks Draco can’t be trusted,” Harry explained, annoyance audible in his voice. He never once looked away from Lupin, wand raised defensively in front of him.</p><p>“It’s okay, Remus,” Hermione said softly, “Draco saved me. He’s been a great help over the last couple of weeks. He’s okay.” </p><p>Lupin’s gaze shifted to her, and his wand dropped by a fraction. He was wavering in his resolution now. Apparently he laid more value in her judgment than Harry’s.</p><p>“Malfoy, mate, do you—” Weasley entered the kitchen from the other side, stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene. </p><p>“You trust him, too?” Lupin asked incredulously.</p><p>Weasley shrugged.</p><p>“I didn’t at first but he had enough opportunities to rat us out by now, and he didn’t. Plus Harry and Hermione trust him, and I trust them.” </p><p>Lupin finally lowered his wand, and Draco let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Potter squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly. </p><p>“Good. Now that we’ve cleared this up,” he said as he crossed the room towards his mentor, “It’s good to see you, Remus.” </p><p>He hugged him tightly, and suddenly it was all noise in the kitchen as he, Granger, and Weasley celebrated their big reunion with the man. </p><p>“I can’t wait to tell you the news I have!” Lupin said. Bill, Fleur, and Luna also came into the kitchen, drawn towards the noise, and Draco quietly removed himself from the scene, suddenly feeling distinctly out of place. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Lovegood found him sitting in the dunes, idly letting sand run through his fingers while the fresh wind swept through his hair. They were nearing the end of April now, and it was slowly getting warmer. </p><p>She sat down next to him and didn’t say anything for a long while. Draco had mostly avoided her since they arrived at Shell Cottage a few weeks earlier. He felt guilty and ashamed that she had to suffer at great length in his family home and he’d been too busy hiding out in his room to help her. </p><p>“You don’t need to apologise, you know?” Lovegood said eventually, breaking the silence. Draco looked up at her, quickly checking his Occlumency. His shields were still in place, there was no way she could’ve got through to read his thoughts. </p><p>“Ah, no worries. I can’t say of myself that I am a Legilimens. You just aren’t so hard to read.”</p><p>Draco stared at her. </p><p>“It’s like you’re replying to my thoughts. It’s quite unnerving.”</p><p>Lovegood smiled softly.</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry. Harry doesn’t like it when I read him either. Always gets all tense.” </p><p>“You’re an odd one, aren’t you?” Draco asked with a shake of his head. </p><p>The girl shrugged. </p><p>“Well, my father always says it takes one to know one. What does it mean to not be odd, do you think?”</p><p>Draco paused at that. His father had always painted oddness or outlandishness as something <em> bad, </em>something that should be crushed and exterminated at all costs. But what was the goal, then? Normality? Being ordinary? All the things they accused Muggles of being? Had he ever even met a person who wasn’t odd in one way or another? </p><p>Voldemort was certainly odd. The man didn’t even have a nose, for crying out loud! And his father was serving a madman even though he thought himself above most things, and even though he cowered in fear the moment said madman merely addressed him. That was odd. Even he was odd, messed up and broken, but hiding inside a massive shell. </p><p>The sun broke through the clouds then, warming Draco’s face as the cool sea breeze swept through his hair. </p><p>“My father always used it as an insult, but it’s not, is it? All the best people I know are kind of <em> odd</em>.” </p><p>Lovegood smiled at him. </p><p>“You have changed. That’s a good thing. Love does that for you, I suppose.” </p><p>Draco hummed. There was a blush waiting to form, but Draco swallowed it down, blinking against a particularly strong blow of wind. </p><p>“I think Harry loves you, too, you know? He’s changed as well. He’s less quick to jump to conclusions about people now.” </p><p>Draco ran a hand through his hair and wrapped his arms around his knees. He was wearing light blue jeans, Muggle clothes that Ginny had brought with her. He didn’t think he’d ever worn Muggle clothes before, but strangely he found that he didn’t mind so much. They were much more comfortable than the robes he was used to. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Draco said honestly, “He might just love the distraction.” </p><p>When he looked back up, Lovegood was wearing ridiculous colourful glasses with eyelashes attached to the sides. </p><p>“Your head is filled with Wrackspurts,” she commented, “I think you must’ve gotten them from Harry.” </p><p>Draco snorted, but decided to indulge her.</p><p>“Wrackspurts, huh?” </p><p>Luna jumped right into a very slowly narrated explanation about Wrackspurts and something she called <em> Nargles</em>, and Draco let her voice calm him down as he took deep breaths of the fresh sea air. They would break into Gringotts tomorrow. It might just be the last time Draco’s lungs filled with fresh air, so he counted every single one of them.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. droppin' bombs on future's past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'd say happy Sunday night, dear reader darlings, but happiness seems a bit in short supply lately. Hence, a new chapter. I hope you're all feeling somewhat alright &amp; holding up out there. </p><p>We're jumping right into action now. What would've gone differently if Draco had been with the Golden Trio since Shell Cottage? We're right into exploring that now. </p><p>Chapter title taken from a song called "Clumsy" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry tried his absolute best to stay calm and collected when Draco and Hermione appeared fully transformed into Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. It was rather unnerving, really, especially Draco. Hermione’s mannerisms still came through in a way that made it obvious she was not a deranged Death Eater called Bellatrix, but Draco carried himself completely like his father. All that gave him away was the way his voice went up at the end of Harry’s last name. <em> PottAH</em>. </p><p>Ron peered at Draco, deep frown and wide eyes under his new mat of wavy hair and the thick beard he was sporting. </p><p>“Mate! He’s uncanny! It’s <em> unsettling</em>!” </p><p>“I’m right here, Weasley,” Draco said, and it sounded more imperious than usual simply because he looked like Lucius Malfoy. “I used to want to be just like my father, remember? That had to amount to <em> something</em>.”</p><p>Harry looked at him, unable to stop feeling twitchy when he met Lucius Malfoy’s cold grey eyes that bore so much resemblance to Draco’s own. Draco’s warmth was still there, underneath, but somehow that just made it even more disconcerting to hold the eye contact. </p><p>“Well it’s certainly coming in handy now, disturbing and all as it is,” he said, looking away.</p><p>“Are we ready?” Hermione chimed in. </p><p>“Do you have the brooms?” Draco asked.</p><p>Harry nodded, pulling two match-sized broomsticks from his jacket pocket. Draco had insisted they would bring at least two, but hadn’t bothered explaining why.</p><p>“You’ll see,” he’d merely said. </p><p>Ron nodded too and together with Griphook they apparated directly into a dark alley next to Gringotts. They quickly hurried inside as to avoid any attention drawn to them, Hermione and Draco almost imperceptibly straightening up once they entered the great entrance hall. Harry still remembered the first time he’d stepped into the grand building as if it had only been a day or two ago. So much had changed since then; for better or worse. </p><p>Hermione cleared her throat when she and Draco stepped up to a counter and weren’t immediately rewarded with the goblin’s attention. The noise came out rather awkwardly, and Draco shot her a glare, so she repeated the sound, this time a little more confident. </p><p>“Ms Lestrange! Mr Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise,” the goblin said when he finally looked up. He didn’t sound like it was a pleasant surprise at all. In fact, Harry was sure if looks could kill, Hermione and Draco would be dead on the floor by now. “What can I do for you?” </p><p>“I require access to my vault,” Hermione said in her best imitation of Bellatrix’s condescending screech. </p><p>“But of course, Ms Lestrange.” The goblin waved a slightly taller, light haired creature over and started talking to him in hushed tones.</p><p>“I’m afraid we will require identification. You understand these are difficult times. Would you, by any chance, have your wand on you?” the goblin asked, eyes narrowing on Hermione. Draco had been right. He was testing them. </p><p>“Excuse me! I must’ve misheard. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” she screeched, and she sounded so much like Bellatrix, Harry had to stop his wand from twitching. </p><p>“Surely you appreciate our efforts to keep your fortunes safe.” the goblin said patronisingly. </p><p>“This is outrageous! The Dark Lord <em> himself </em> will hear about your audacity, and he will not be pleased,” Draco snarled in one his most impressive impressions of Lucius Malfoy. Harry nearly snorted, Draco’s teenage self shouting <em> “My father will hear about this!” </em> echoing in his mind. “I believe you <em> must have </em> forgotten who you’re talking to!” </p><p>“Was it not myself who even set you up to not letting anyone into my vault?” Hermione cried. The goblin looked uncertain now, wide eyes fixed onto the appearance of Bellatrix Lestrange. He nodded.</p><p>“Well, and now I have changed my mind! You know as well as I that I cannot provide my wand for identification, as it was <em> viciously </em> taken from me by that filthy half-blood and his mudblood friends who think they stand any chance against the mighty Lord!” </p><p>“If you refuse to cooperate, we will count this as a case of aiding the Undesirable Number One, which is punishable by death,” Draco said cooly. </p><p>The two goblins shared another bout of alerted whispers, but Harry knew they’d won. The risk of possible intrusion had been valued lower than the prospect of being associated with him. Harry couldn’t blame them </p><p>“Ms Lestrange, Mr Malfoy, I apologise. Please come along.” </p><p> </p><p>The ride down into the Gringotts vaults was as bumpy and nauseating as usual. They went deeper this time, however, deeper than Harry had ever been. He was pondering over the fact that he should've worn thicker clothes in the clammy cool of the underground caves, when they crossed a magical barrier and were abruptly catapulted out of the wagon, free falling into the deep. Panic was rising in Harry’s chest. They would hit the ground unstopped, it was all over, they would all die--</p><p>Hermione cast a cushion charm last minute and their fall stopped a few centimetres above the ground. Harry took a deep breath of relief before realising that his cloak was lying next to him, having slipped away from him and Griphook during their fall, and there was an angry goblin staring at them. The panic returned with a bang, and Harry felt it constricting his chest when he spotted Hermione and Draco standing there staring at each other in horror. The Polyjuice had worn off. </p><p>“No enchantment lasts past the barrier,” Griphook said. </p><p>“Well you could’ve said so before!” Ron rightfully complained.</p><p>The goblin in charge stared at them, ready to alert the guards, Harry knew.</p><p>“What in the world are <em> you </em> all doing down here?” he asked in bewilderment and Harry wondered faintly if goblins knew emotions like regret or if they ever got mad at themselves for making a mistake. Must be a nice life if they didn’t, Harry thought. </p><p>“Mr Malfoy Jr?” The goblin stared suspiciously at Draco. “Undesirable Number Four. So <em> The Prophet </em>did not lie. Well, it’s going to be a pleasure to--”</p><p>“Imperio!” Harry’s head snapped around to stare at Ron, who had his wand pointed at the goblin. </p><p>“Good thinking,” Harry muttered, taking a deep breath. </p><p>They followed the imperiused goblin to the vault and Harry started shivering again. He faintly recognised the feeling as one that wasn’t just due to the cool climate of an underground cave. Draco must’ve been right about the Horcrux. </p><p>“Undesirable Number Four,” Ron commented idly, “Congrats, Malfoy. Well done, mate.” </p><p>“One of my prouder achievements,” Draco said dryly, and Harry cracked a smile. He didn’t doubt that Draco actually meant it. </p><p>They stopped in front of a massive, black iron door. It looked pompous, even all the way down in a dark cold cave, and Harry nearly scoffed at the snobbishness of it. He’d have to ask Draco about other ridiculous things Purebloods did some time. </p><p>“Before we go in,” Draco said seriously, “Remember not to touch anything. Everything in this vault has been put under the Gemino curse and will multiply infinitely if anyone outside the Black bloodline touches it.” He looked at them all intently. “Which is why<em> I’m </em> getting the cup, and you lot won’t touch <em> anything</em>, alright?” </p><p>Sometimes Harry forgot that Draco was actually related to Sirius. By blood, and not just by emotion the way Harry was. He couldn’t help thinking Sirius would be proud of Draco right now. </p><p>The goblin opened the door to the vault by drawing a specific pattern on it with his thumb until the door started withdrawing into its frames. </p><p>Unsurprisingly, the vault was filled to the brim with gold and jewelry, most of it likely stolen. Harry felt the distinct whispers of a Horcrux growing more intense now, proving its presence. </p><p>“It’s here. I can feel it,” he said quietly.</p><p>“Yes. It’s there.” Draco pointed towards the far wall. There was a small alcove maybe about three metres into the air, harbouring the exact golden cup from Helga Hufflepuff’s portrait. Piles of random treasures on the floor beneath it actively blocked their way, and Harry had to restrain himself to heed Draco’s words and not touch anything. </p><p>“<em> Accio cup!</em>” Harry chanted, and Draco gave him an exasperated look. </p><p>“There are multiple curses on this stuff that prevent magical summoning, Potter.”</p><p>“So how are we getting to it?” Harry asked dumbly. </p><p>Draco merely rolled his eyes and kept staring at him as if he was waiting for the penny to drop. His eyes were so dark in the dimly lit chamber and Harry got briefly distracted by them, drawing a blank as a result.</p><p>“The broomsticks, Harry!” Hermione urged and Harry had the sudden impulse to kick himself for being so slow and unfocused when they were all currently risking their lives to get this cup. </p><p>“Oh, right!” </p><p>He scrambled to pull the small brooms from his pocket.</p><p>“<em>Engorgio</em>!” </p><p>Draco shook his head when Harry finally handed him a broom, but Harry didn’t miss the fond smile playing on his lips. </p><p>The Slytherin wasted no more time and flew up the small distance, grabbing the cup and returning to them in what must’ve been less than 20 seconds. </p><p>“Easy,” he said when he landed next to Harry just outside the vault and gave him the cup. </p><p>“I will take my payment now,” Griphook said grimly. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco exchanged looks. They couldn’t give the sword away before destroying the Horcrux. </p><p>“Alright, give us a moment,” Harry told him, placing the cup on the ground and handing the sword of Gryffindor to Draco. “Your honours?” </p><p>Draco looked at him for a long moment before nodding hesitantly. There were voices echoing down the cave, then, coming closer. </p><p>“Hurry, Draco!” Hermione urged. </p><p>“No matter what it says, Draco, remember it’s not real. It’s trying to save itself,” Harry explained calmly. Draco nodded. He inched closer toward the cup, and almost as if it was sensing its dooming demise, it spoke up in the sneering voice of Lucius Malfoy. </p><p>
  <em> “What are you doing, boy? Think you can play hero here? For the sake of what? Your perverse sodomite schoolboy infatuation? You’re pathetic, Draco. You always were. Do you really think he wants you? How could he? Look at you. You’re weak!”  </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em>Draco,” Harry said carefully, “It’s not really him. It’s trying to rile you up, it’s—”</p><p>Draco screamed, then, and slammed the sword onto the cup with such force, it flew nearly two metres into the air before clattering to the stone floor and breaking, black smoke evaporating with an angry hiss. </p><p>“Well, that’s done then. Let’s go,” Ron said urgently, not wasting a second. The voices were still coming closer. Draco handed Griphook the sword - albeit reluctantly - and Harry flung the second broomstick over to Ron. He hurried over to Draco, who was already sitting on his broom, waiting for Harry to hop on. </p><p>“So that’s why you insisted on the broomsticks!” Ron cheered rather unnecessarily. </p><p>Draco didn’t comment, and started up into the air instead, skilfully making his way through tracks and rocks and dodging the dragon that had emerged from the ground and decided to play catch with them. Harry held on tightly, arms clutched around Draco’s waist. It was a strange feeling, giving up the control over the broom and letting someone else fly for him. But Draco was an excellent flyer, despite his father <em> buying </em> him onto his Quidditch team in second year, and Harry knew he could trust him to get them out of this. </p><p>They were nearing the cave ceiling now, and without any clue what else to do, Harry pointed his wand at it, screaming “<em>Bombarda</em>!” and ducking his head when rocks and debris came falling down. Draco dodged all of it, and they emerged in the entrance hall, where an impressive number of wands were being pointed at them, but Draco already sped towards the door, another “<em>Bombarda</em>!” and they were flying out into the stuffy afternoon London air. Harry took a deep breath, tightening his grip around Draco more to comfort himself than actually holding on. </p><p>He dared looking around for Ron and Hermione for the first time in since they’d taken off down in the cave, and let out a breath of relief when he saw them right behind him and Draco. </p><p>“Are they okay?” Draco asked. </p><p>“Yeah,” Harry told him, burying his head in Draco’s neck and breathing him in. “They’re right behind us.” </p><p>Harry was sure he didn’t imagine Draco’s quiet sigh of relief. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco landed near a lake quite a distance from London. He almost regretted his decision when he stood on solid ground again, Harry’s warm presence removed from his back. He hadn’t gone flying in a long time, and he’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed it, even when he was flying away from a near-death in the Gringotts caves. He’d also thoroughly enjoyed Harry nuzzling his face in his neck and pressing soft kisses to his skin the moment they were safe, holding his tight embrace until they landed. </p><p>He didn’t have long to enjoy the euphoria that always came with flying on a broomstick, though, because suddenly Harry keeled over, pressing a palm to his lightning scar and screaming in agony. </p><p>Draco was by his side in a heartbeat, grabbing his shaking free hand and holding on tight. </p><p>He had to be experiencing another one of his worrisome trips into Voldemort’s head. The first time Draco had witnessed it happening, not long into their stay at Shell Cottage, Draco had nearly lost his mind because he’d been so convinced that Harry was dying, right there in front of his eyes, and that there was nothing he could do about it. But the fit had gone almost as quickly as it had come, and the three of them had explained the mental connection Harry had with Voldemort. </p><p>Draco felt nauseous looking at Harry’s troubled face now, the way his body kept shaking and he groaned in pain. Something about this connection hadn’t felt right to Draco from the start; there was just something about it that unsettled him beyond the obvious, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. </p><p>Harry came back to reality with a gasp, eyes blown wide as he looked between Draco, Weasley, and Hermione. </p><p>“He knows,” Harry told them, breathing heavily. “He’s angry, he knows we destroyed another Horcrux. He killed all the goblins. He’s also angry about the Elder Wand he stole from Dumbledore’s grave. It won’t do his bidding.” He paused. “There was something… I think the next Horcrux has something to do with Ravenclaw, and it’s hidden somewhere inside Hogwarts. His panicked thoughts gave it away.” </p><p>Draco frowned. A terrible thought occurred to him. </p><p>“Well it’s obvious why the wand won’t do his bidding.” </p><p>Three heads turned to him, all eyebrows raised inquiringly. </p><p>“Obvious for anyone with a brain, then. Sorry, Granger. Anyway. I disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy tower. So I became it’s rightful owner.” </p><p>There was a moment of silence before all three of his new Gryffindor friends started talking at once. </p><p>“Fucking hell, mate!” </p><p>“Draco!” </p><p>“Oh no.” </p><p>Draco closed his eyes, hand rubbing his forehead. There was something else, something about Ravenclaw… but he just couldn’t get to it, couldn’t even focus. </p><p>“Draco, the moment he realises you’re the master of the Elder Wand you’re rising up to second in line of people he wants dead, you know that, right? Fuck.” The horrified look in Harry’s eyes was almost unbearable. It was much like Draco felt when he thought about Harry being the unchallenged number one on Voldemort’s killing list. </p><p>“I know. He might think it was Severus, though, since he was the one who killed him. I think he’ll likely go down that path first. None of them witnessed me disarming Dumbledore.” Draco stared at his own wand in Harry’s hands. He’d taken it out in some sort of nervous motion to occupy his hands, and was now idly fidgeting around with it. </p><p>“I gave my wand to you,” he said as the next epiphany washed over him, “That means you’re the rightful owner of all the wands I mastered at the time. That includes the Elder Wand. But he doesn’t know. You can use this to your advantage, Potter!” </p><p>“I— I’m the owner of the Elder Wand?” Potter asked. He was clearly a bit slow in the head today, even more so than usual. Draco bit his lip to keep himself from commenting on it, though, figuring it wasn’t really the right moment.</p><p>“Draco’s right, Harry,” Hermione agreed. ”If he gives up his wand willingly, he gives over all the wands he’s master of. And if he disarmed Dumbledore before his death… Draco was its rightful owner.”</p><p>Weasley’s eyes lit up. </p><p>“That’s sick, mate! Master of the Elder Wand!” he cheered excitedly. Potter shrugged. </p><p>“Well, I didn’t exactly win it fair and square, did I? Draco did.” </p><p>“And I gave my wand to you because you deserve it much more than I do, Potter,” Draco muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes. </p><p>“That’s still not—”</p><p>“RAVENCLAW’S LOST DIADEM!” Draco blurted the second the itch he’d been pondering on fully formed into a thought, an idea in his mind. </p><p>The three Gryffindors stared at him, surprised in Granger and Weasley’s cases, a bit dumbfounded in Potter’s case. </p><p>“The last Horcrux! It has to be Rowena Ravenclaw’s lost diadem. Except it’s not really lost, because I found it in the Room of Requirement while I was working on the cabinet. There was something strange about it, so I did some research on lost diadems in Hogwarts history - mostly to distract myself from the actual task I was failing abysmally at. But, anyway. It’s still there. It has to be.” </p><p>All three pairs of eyes were blinking at Draco now. He realised he must’ve talked really fast in his excitement, a whole well of words just rushing past his lips.</p><p>Granger grinned at him, and Draco was sure he imagined the fondness in her eyes as she suddenly threw her arms around him and hugged him rather enthusiastically.</p><p>“You. Are brilliant, Draco Malfoy,” she said, and Draco forced his still muscles to move, awkwardly patting her back as he returned her embrace. He wasn’t used to such sudden displays of affection directed at him, especially not from a girl he used to be absolutely horrible to. </p><p>“I second that,” Harry said fondly when Hermione pulled away from him, sightly flushed when she met Draco’s eyes again. She looked like she’d surprised herself with her outburst. </p><p>Harry placed a soft kiss on Draco’s mouth before he hugged him just as tight as his friend had, and Draco couldn’t help the small smile that was spreading on his lips. Maybe he was exactly where he should be after all. </p><p>Weasley just smiled a bit awkwardly, hands buried deep in the pockets of his trousers. </p><p>“I’m not gonna hug you, alright,” he said, nose wrinkled as if the thought alone gave him an incurable illness. “But I suppose well done, mate.” </p><p>Draco returned the Weasel’s smile, probably for the first time in the 7 years they’d known each other, and he couldn’t help thinking how life went down the most unlikely paths sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>Aberforth Dumbledore was almost as unhelpful as his late brother. Almost, because he did help them get into Hogwarts in the end instead of sending them on a cryptic scavenger hunt filled with riddles to get to their goal. But the old man was grumpy, reluctant to share any information without being prodded, and odd in a way that seemed distinctly <em> Dumbledore</em>. </p><p>Of course Aberforth had tried to kick Draco out at wand point the moment the four of them had ducked into the Hog’s Head after fighting off some Death Eaters creeping around Hogsmeade. Draco was used to the reaction at that point, but it still served to make him go rigid, to make his insides turn upside down. Everyone was constantly suspicious of him, and rightfully so. But every wand pointed, every suspicious glare directed at him, every insult thrown his way; they only reminded Draco of who he was and the things he had done and the wrong choices he’d made. He’d been working so hard on changing his ways, on turning away from his father’s indoctrination, and yet he was still branded, the mark on his arm an eternal reminder for all. </p><p>Potter, Granger, and even Weasley had jumped right between him and Aberforth’s wand, explaining to him that Draco had deserted and was now helping them even under the threat of his life. Potter explained that <em> Albus Dumbledore </em>had given him a second chance, too, and that Draco had simply been the victim of a failed plan on his side. </p><p>The old man cast a <em> Priori Incantatem </em> anyway, and when he was sure Draco hadn’t Imperiused the Golden Trio, he finally lowered his wand. Draco took a deep breath, chest easing a little when Potter squeezed his hand and pulled him into a comforting hug. </p><p> </p><p>As it turned out, Aberforth wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of his brother, and Draco could sympathise with that. Nevertheless, though, he’d heeded Albus’s wish for him to aid Potter should he need his help. He’d done so with a strange piece of a broken mirror that had somehow ended up in Potter’s possession, and he was doing so now by granting them passage through a hidden tunnel right from the Hog’s Head into Hogwarts. The entrance was hidden behind a painting of the Dumbledores’ sister, Ariana, who was sent off to - well, Draco didn’t actually know what she was doing, but when she returned her painting swung open like a door, and none other than Neville Longbottom appeared, a delighted smile gracing his face when he spotted them. </p><p>“Neville!” The three Gryffindors exclaimed excitedly at the same time as Draco said “Longbottom!” </p><p>The four Gryffindor’s hugged it out, and then Longbottom turned to Draco, smile ever unwavering. It had been a few weeks since he had last seen him, on the last day before spring break, when he had taken a particularly nasty jinx to protect a first year. Draco had called him a stupid Gryffindor, but had been the victim to a Crucio himself that day; punishment for not doing what the Carrows had wanted him to do. </p><p>“Malfoy, it’s really good to see you!” Longbottom said, undoubtedly meaning it. He pulled Draco into a friendly embrace, too, squeezing once and letting go. </p><p>“You, too,” Draco said, “I hope you survived the last month here without my help.” </p><p>“Yeah, I mean we definitely could’ve used your advice on countering a spell or two, but we were holding our ground.” </p><p>“That’s good,” Draco said honestly, smiling at his unlikely Gryffindor friend, “I told you you had it in you all along.” </p><p>Longbottom shrugged. “Guess I did.” </p><p>He was still smiling, and it almost distracted Draco from his limping when they were walking down the secret tunnel. Almost. </p><p>“What happened to your leg?” Potter asked before Draco could. Longbottom kept looking ahead, keeping quiet for a long time, and Draco understood. </p><p>“What <em> fun </em> did they have planned today?” he asked quietly. They had that shared experience of a horrendous year at Hogwarts between them, and Draco didn’t think anyone who hadn’t been there could ever quite understand the casual horrors they’d gone through.</p><p>“The first years,” Longbottom said, “They made us practice the Cruciatus on them in Defense. I didn’t, obviously, right along with the other DAs. You can guess the outcome. It was fine, though, saved some 11-year-olds from lifelong trauma, didn’t we?” </p><p>Longbottom turned, holding out his fist, and Draco bumped it with his own like he had done so many times over the course of the school year, whenever one of them had suffered at the hands of the Carrows. It was subtle enough, just a nonverbal way to say ’well done‘ and ’I’m okay’, often hidden behind robes and school bags or under tables. Longbottom had come up with it for his little group with him and Ginny after a whole school corridor had stopped and stared at them when Longbottom had asked Draco if he was okay after a particularly challenging class. </p><p>“Nice clothes, by the way,” Longbottom commented as he turned back. Draco was wearing black jeans that fit surprisingly well and a weird black jumper contraption with a large pocket at the front and a hood. Granger had gone undercover in Muggle London to retrieve more clothes for them than Ginny had brought one day during their stay at Shell Cottage and Draco thought it was a fairly good selection considering they were Muggle clothes.</p><p>“Thanks. I’m wearing a <em> hoodie</em>,” Draco said proudly, “And <em> jeans</em>.” </p><p>Longbottom laughed, and even the three quiet Gryffindors offered a chuckle each. </p><p>They kept walking in silence afterwards, until they reached the secret doorway that led into the castle. Potter held Longbottom back by his arm. </p><p>“Draco and Ginny told me a bit of what happened here while we were gone and… you did an amazing job, Neville.” </p><p>Longbottom merely nodded. Draco knew he appreciated the sentiment, but suffering through torture for months on end bore little ground for the effect of comforting words. </p><p>The Gryffindor opened the door instead, announcing that he had a surprise to what Draco could only assume was the rest of the DA, and stepped aside as he emerged alongside Potter, Granger, and Weasley. </p><p>Potter was immediately surrounded by people, excited shouts of “Harry!” echoing through the room. A few people even came up to shake Draco’s hand. It was a nice change from the usual. But this was Hogwarts; Hogwarts had always been different from the usual. </p><p>“Hey, hero,” Ginny said as she walked up to him and pulled him in a hug, “Glad you made it.” </p><p> </p><p>All students were summoned into the Great Hall shortly after, Snape’s drawling voice thundering through the castle and seeping into Draco’s bones. He knew now that Snape had taken an unbreakable vow to his mother to protect Draco no matter what, to take over the task Voldemort had given him should Draco not be able to do it. But he was still furious at the man he’d looked up to as a mentor, a father figure when he was growing up and couldn’t bear the pressures his own father placed upon him. Draco felt betrayed by him; in the end, he hadn’t been much better than his father. His father, at least, had had always been honest with Draco. Snape had been a double agent between the two sides for decades, but when it had come down to it he had still proved his loyalty to a madman instead of helping Draco the way he should’ve helped him: by getting him the fuck out of there. But he’d allowed Bellatrix to take him back to that house of horrors he’d once called home, and later he’d allowed the Carrows to have free reign over Hogwarts and its students, batting a blind eye to torture and discrimination. </p><p>Draco had lost all his respect for Severus, and he didn’t think he could ever win it back. </p><p>“All right. They probably know I’m here,” Potter told the group. Everyone had gone completely silent. “Neville, I need you to contact the Order members. Everyone who would be noticed as missing, go to the Great Hall and act as if nothing happened. It’s important that you do. No matter what Snape says. And I’m gonna need to borrow someone’s school robes.”</p><p>“What’s your plan, Harry?” Hermione asked. Draco had a vague idea, and he didn’t like it one bit. Potter shrugged. </p><p>“Well. He wants <em> me</em>, so we’re gonna make an entrance.” </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes at the stupid, stupid Gryffindor. Reckless, and likely completely insane, but Draco was falling in love with him anyway. So there was no way he would let him walk into that hall by himself.</p><p>“I’m gonna need some robes, too,” Draco said, eyes fixed on Potter. </p><p>“Draco—” Potter started protesting, so Draco stepped forward and pressed his palm over his mouth to shut him up effectively. </p><p>“I’m coming with you, Potter. There is nothing you can say that will stop me.” </p><p> </p><p>Five minutes later, Draco stared down at the robes that had been <em> Accio’d </em> across the castle. Gryffindor robes. They were putting him in Gryffindor robes. One glance at Longbottom trying and failing to hide his laughter behind his hands told him exactly who was taking the piss here. Draco hated them all. </p><p>“Gotta say, red does suit you,” Potter said teasingly, unable to hide the amusement on his face. </p><p>“Please. I look ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m being bullied by a bunch of Gryffindors.” </p><p>“Sorry,” Longbottom said, openly laughing now, “This was just too good an opportunity to pass up.” </p><p>“Karma coming right back at you, mate,” Weasley commented. </p><p>Ginny patted him on the shoulder, her face betraying her pity. Draco wrinkled his nose.</p><p>“Honorary Gryffindor,” she said with a shrug, eyes growing softer as she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. </p><p>Draco snorted, and Ginny quickly darted away, laughing in delight. </p><p>“I’m gonna get you back for this, Weaselgirl,” he said, a stupid grin pulling at his lips. </p><p>“You go and try, Ferretboy.” </p><p>Draco shook his head, rolling his eyes in fond exasperation. </p><p>“I still don’t understand this at all,” Weasley noted. He was ignored, though, when Potter took Draco’s hand and looked at him searchingly. </p><p>“Ready?” </p><p>“No. But apparently I’m a Gryffindor now, so I suppose the correct answer would be <em> ‘yeah, fuck it’</em>.” </p><p>Potter shoved him, and Draco squeezed his hand. It was time to march into battle.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. let's start, let's start a riot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hello lovely readers. Chapter 9, ready to be served. We're right at the battle of Hogwarts now, and Draco's presence is bound to change things. </p><p>The chapter title is taken from "Glitter &amp; Crimson" by All Time Low. It also applies to the current situation in the world. </p><p>Every change in human history, every revolution, it all started with riots and protests once. Because the path to change isn't always comfortable. Stay safe out there and take care of each other. All lives don't matter until black lives matter. </p><p>Oh, and also, happy pride month everyone!!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry had a hard time keeping his jaw from snapping open when he watched students entering the hall marching and standing in ranks like they were military; like this wasn’t a school, but the battlefield it was likely going to become. One look at Draco confirmed that this was the new normal at the school. The blond didn’t even bat an eyelash as he stepped in line, hood drawn over his silvery strands to keep them from standing out. Harry kept his head ducked, but he knew a couple of Gryffindors recognized him anyway when he went to stand in their ranks. The Great Hall looked eerie; dark. There weren’t any torches lit on the walls and the ceiling wasn’t enchanted. The magic that had once filled its walls, the same magic that Harry associated with the first home he’d ever had; it was gone. Harry took a shaky breath and glanced at Draco. The Slytherin looked different in Gryffindor robes. <em> Absurd.</em> Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he didn’t like it. Draco was just so inherently Slytherin in every step he took, every word he uttered, and every gesture he made; it felt wrong to see him in red, rather than green. Harry had almost expected him to refuse wearing the robes, had almost expected the scene he would undoubtedly have put on only a couple of years ago. Then again, Draco wouldn’t even have been there with them back then. But Draco was different now, and while he’d still complained in a vast variety of his posh vocabulary, it had all been rather good naturedly. </p><p>His eyes were still on Draco when Snape strode down the aisle between the students and started his speech before he even came to a halt at the front where the head table used to be. The place where Dumbledore used to stand. </p><p>“Many of you are surely wondering why I summoned you at this hour,” Snape said calmly. His drawl could still send shivers of anxiety down Harry’s spine. “It’s come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.” </p><p>Whispers started amongst the students, some heads subtly turning in his direction. Harry tensed, carefully breathing through his nose. He felt a hand closing around his, squeezing reassuringly. Harry held onto it, knowing this was just as hard for Draco as it was for him. Maybe worse, because he had once looked up to Snape. </p><p>“Now. Should anyone, student or staff, attempt to aid Mr Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Furthermore, every person found to have knowledge of these events who fails to come forward will be treated as equally guilty.” </p><p>Anger rose in Harry’s chest as Snape’s drawling voice got slower and even more annoying than usual. He spoke to the students as if they all had difficulties comprehending the words he was saying. Slowly, he started walking back down the aisle. </p><p>“Now, then. If anyone has any knowledge of Potter’s movement this evening, I invite them to step forward. Now.” </p><p>Snape stopped in the middle of the room, where he could see all the students standing in ranks and divided into four blocks. It was silent in the hall, then; unnervingly so. Nobody dared to even look up, nobody dared to do or say anything. When the silence became too unbearable, Harry looked up to meet Draco’s eyes. They nodded at each other, and stepped out of ranks, wands neatly tucked away, though Draco left a hand on his just to be safe. </p><p>There was a collective gasp echoing through the hall, and Snape whipped around, wand pointed. His eyes widened only by a fraction as they darted between Harry and Draco. </p><p>“He knows he can’t hurt me,” Draco muttered under his breath, “The unbreakable vow.” </p><p>“It seems despite your exhaustive defensive strategies around here you still have a bit of a security problem, headmaster,” Harry said, raising his voice. He was aware that he had every single pair of eyes in the hall fixed on him. As if on cue, the door to the hall opened and every remaining Order member stepped in, wands raised. The whispers flared up again and Harry kept his eyes carefully trained on Snape. </p><p>“How dare you stand where Dumbledore stood? Tell them how it happened that night! Tell them how you looked him in the eyes. He trusted you, and you killed him! Draco had long switched sides.” There was a small gasp audible from the Slytherins gathered at the front of the room. “There was no need to step in for him, and you <em> knew </em>. And then you dragged him off to face punishment for his better judgment. How can you even live with yourself?” </p><p>Snape raised his wand with a flick of his wrist, and Draco jumped in front of Harry, wand pointed. </p><p>“Draco, you’d be best advised to step away. <em> Now</em>. The Dark Lord will not see kindly to you standing in his way,” Snape said slowly. </p><p>“See if I care,” Draco snarled, standing his ground, “You and that that noseless nutter ruined my life.”</p><p>Another collective gasp. Harry supposed people weren’t used to Voldemort being referred to as<em> noseless nutter </em> and he grinned, a wave of pride and affection washing over him as he looked at he head of silvery blond hair in front of him. </p><p>Draco was about to fire off a hex, and he wasn’t sure what Snape was going to do, the unbreakable vow still thrumming between them. But then McGonagall swept in from the side, appearing out of nowhere and blocking Harry and Draco from Snape’s reach, firing off spell after spell until Snape yielded, changing into his dark Death Eater shape and breaking through the window at the front of the hall, glass shattering loudly in the resumed silence. </p><p>Then, collectively, the entire student body broke into cheers and McGonagall lit the torches in the hall with a swish of her wand, returning the golden glow Harry had always associated with it. </p><p>Draco squeezed his hand, but before he could say anything, the torches were put out again by a sharp gush of wind, and Harry’s scar started burning painfully as he heard the blood freezing whisper of Voldemort in his head. </p><p>“Harry…” </p><p>He held onto Draco’s arm, slowly sinking to the floor as he pressed his free hand against his scar. Someone was screaming. Then another one. It was eerily silent in between, the pain in Harry’s forehead never ceasing. He tried pulling himself back up, clinging to Draco. He had to see what was going on. </p><p>Then, Voldemort’s voice, echoing through the hall in a sharp whisper. Some students were pressing their hands to their ears, trying to block out the horrifying sound, but it was pervasive. </p><p>“I know that many of you want to fight. Some of you may even think that divide is wise. But this is folly. Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed.” If Harry wasn’t feeling so cold and terrified, he might have laughed. “You give me Harry Potter and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.” Lies. “Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.” </p><p> Deafening silence returned to the Great Hall as everyone but Draco stepped away from Harry, leaving him standing exposed in the middle of the room, all eyes back on him. No one seemed to know what to do; and Harry couldn’t blame them. </p><p>“What are you all waiting for?” a female voice perked up from the gathering of Slytherins. “Draco! He’s right there. Grab him!” </p><p>Pansy Parkinson, then. Harry turned to look at Draco, unsure what to find, but the blond’s eyes were narrowed at his former girlfriend and he raised his wand as he stepped in front of Harry. </p><p>“Pansy. Do me a favour and kindly shut the fuck up, will you? What business do you have trying to rat Potter out when all your parents have done since Voldemort returned is hide out somewhere in Norway?” </p><p>Parkinson looked properly taken aback, but quickly caught herself, drawing out her wand. </p><p>“Did you finally manage to get into his pants or why are you suddenly so far up his arse that you would betray your own house? Don’t think I haven’t seen the Gryffindor robes earlier. You think you’re one of them now, do you?” she sneered. </p><p>“MS PARKINSON,” Professor McGonagall thundered, looking affronted at Parkinson’s choice of words. “That is quite enough!” </p><p>Ron and Hermione stepped up next to Harry, and soon the others joined them. Neville, Luna, Ginny, Fred, George, Cho, Pavarti, Padma, Seamus, Dean - until Harry lost count. Eventually there was a clear divide between the Slytherins and the rest of the school, and McGonagall ordered Filch to escort them to the dungeons. Cheers erupted through the hall once again when the Slytherins walked out, only a few heads still held high. </p><p>Draco sighed, and Harry reached out to squeeze his hand. It didn’t escape his notice that he was the only Slytherin left in the Great Hall, and for a moment his chest filled with sympathy. It couldn’t be easy to rip yourself away from the house you had grown up in, and the friends you had made there. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco was angry. Of course Pansy had to open her big mouth. She was still holding onto a false sense of pride and prejudice and went about her prevalent desire for self preservation above all else in all the wrong and misguided ways. Draco knew, because he’d been like that, too. It was still his first instinct, but somewhere along the way he’d learned to work around it for what he knew was more important in the long run. He wanted his life back, and he couldn’t have it while Voldemort was still alive. </p><p>He made sure to send his most disdainful look her way when she was escorted out with all his other housemates, leaving him alone with a whole school of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy, house and blood traitor. </p><p>His former self would be horrified, but to be fair, his former self had also been a right <em> knob </em>. Plus, in hindsight it was one of his prouder accomplishments if it meant he actually did his part in restoring peace and order in the Wizarding World. At least that was what he liked to tell himself. In reality, it was more about saving his own skin as well as Potter’s. And maybe Ginny and Longbottom. Hermione, too. Luna. Even Weasley. Seeing any of them lose their lives to this would surely break his heart, resulting in more misery, so really, it was still self preservation first and foremost. Draco wasn’t altruistic. </p><p> </p><p>McGonagall, the teachers, and the Order members immediately started scattering across the castle once the Slytherins were gone, putting up all the defenses they could, while the Professor ordered Finnigan and some others to take down the bridges. Draco almost snorted at the idea of Finnigan finally getting to put his strange affinity for causing explosions to a beneficial use. </p><p>“We have to go get the diadem,” Draco told Potter, already dragging him along. </p><p>They ran into Weasley and Granger in the entrance hall. </p><p>“All right,” Hermione agreed when Draco urged Potter along, “Ron and I are going down into the Chamber of Secrets to fetch a basilisk fang. We’ll meet again here as fast as we can to destroy the Horcrux.” </p><p>Potter nodded. “Good luck!”</p><p>“You too, mate.” </p><p>And then they were off running up the stairs to the seventh floor while Weasley and Hermione took off to the unused sixth floor bathroom that still held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets as well as some painful memories for Draco and Potter. </p><p>Draco thought he could probably find the way to the Room of Requirement in his sleep by now. He was still breathing heavily when they finally stopped in front of the bare stretch of stone wall. Draco closed his eyes, mentally telling the room what he was looking for as he started pacing in front of it. Another thing he was sure he could do in his sleep. </p><p>They bursted into the room the moment the door appeared, and Draco stopped in his tracks as he was hit by a wave of unpleasant memories of a horrendous school year. The phantom of the lingering anxiety he’d felt every time he’d entered the room that year clenched around his heart and pressed down on his chest, making it harder to breathe and freezing him on the spot as he stared unseeingly at the familiar piles of centuries’ worth of lost objects. </p><p>“It’s okay, Draco,” Harry said quietly, pulling at his arm to make him turn around to face him. “This isn’t sixth year anymore. You made it out of that. This is the final battle, we’re almost there. You’ll be fine, alright?” </p><p>Draco tried to take another deep breath, pushing against the pressure on his chest. He remembered how scared he’d been for his mother, and that reminded him of the last time he’d seen her, the pleading in her eyes. He didn’t even know if she was still alive now, if she was okay. What if Draco’s betrayal had sent Voldemort’s wrath upon her? </p><p>“Draco,” Harry said again, and Draco found his bright green eyes. The hope of the Wizarding World. Draco had put all his bets on him, had gone all in. There was no way back now, there hadn’t been for a long time. And he thought maybe that was something he should panic about, having drawn a target on his back for being the little Death Eater that aided Harry Potter. He was the point where the factions crashed upon each other, and he had nowhere left to hide. He’d made his choice. And as frantically as he was searching for it, he couldn’t find a single shred of regret as he looked into those eyes that had led him right were he was. </p><p>Harry kissed him, then. His lips were soft, and he tasted like the tea Aberforth had served them. He felt like everything Draco believed in now. So he kissed him back, and the pressure on his chest was replaced by the familiar fluttering beneath his ribcage, the sparks of light that rushed through him chasing away the darkness. </p><p>“Okay?” Harry breathed against his lips, and Draco pulled back, breaths coming much easier now. </p><p>“Yeah,” he said softly, “Thanks.” Then, “Let’s go find that blasted diadem.” </p><p>He turned to walk into the familiar direction of the cabinet, but stopped short when he suddenly found himself face to face with his former friends. Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle. He didn’t remember seeing them in the Great Hall. They must’ve been stationed by Severus to protect the cabinet. </p><p>Crabbe and Goyle stared him down with unrestrained disdain, while Blaise smirked knowingly, despite his drawn wand. </p><p>“I am bowing to you, Dray,” he said, “You actually did it. All those wet Potter dreams you had since third year finally led up to something, didn’t they?” Blaise laughed, but there was no venom to it. Incredulity, amusement, yes. But no venom. Blaise was cheering him on as if they were just hanging out in the Slytherin common room together, looking like he could barely believe Draco’s cheek. </p><p>Draco blushed despite himself, eyes carefully fixed on the pointed wands.</p><p>Crabbe nudged Blaise with his elbow, giving him a disbelieving look. </p><p>“What?” Blaise asked innocently. “We all know he’s been thirsting for Potter since first year. Don’t you remember how he couldn’t hold a single conversation without mentioning him at least once?” </p><p>Draco felt the heat in his cheeks increasing exponentially. Damn Blaise and his oblivious blabbermouth. Potter snorted softly, and all of Draco’s instincts told him to run and hide from the embarrassment. </p><p>Crabbe shook his head at Blaise, furiously whispering something, and fixed his eyes on Draco again.</p><p>“Well, well. If it isn’t the <em> blood traitor</em>,” he said as if Blaise hadn’t already spoken for two minutes since they’d run into each other. </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Save your saliva, Vince. I’m familiar with the speech, given <em>I </em> wrote it.” </p><p>Goyle opened his mouth and closed it again, looking like a fish as he gaped at Draco. </p><p>“Who do you think you are standing there pointing your wand at me?” Draco asked, “You’d be <em> nothing </em> without me, you dimwitted oaf. Just go running to your Daddy, Merlin knows if he’s going to survive this shit show.” </p><p>That seemed to snap Crabbe out of it, because he narrowed his eyes and moved his wand.</p><p>Draco knew he wouldn’t be fast enough to get out his own wand if Crabbe hexed him, but then it turned out he didn’t need to, because Potter already cast an <em> Expelliarmus</em>, effectively disarming Crabbe, and Draco quickly followed suit, whipping out his wand before Goyle could even think of a spell. </p><p>Blaise simply pocketed his wand and raised his hands in surrender. </p><p>“I’m not getting into this. It’s not my war, and you’re my friend, Draco. I won’t fight you,” he said. Draco nodded, sending him a small, grateful smile. What he didn’t count on, however, was Crabbe grabbing Blaise’s wand out of his pocket and running down the aisle away from them.</p><p>“Oh, come ON,” Blaise cursed, darting after him. Goyle gawked a bit dumbly before following them, and Draco exchanged only a single glance with Potter before they ran after  the three dumbasses. </p><p>They found them next to the cabinet, Blaise in a body bind on the floor, and Crabbe pointing his wand at Draco and Potter. Last time he’d seen it, the diadem had been on a bust just around the the next pile. </p><p>“Will you cut the crap, Vince? What are you hoping to achieve here guarding the blasted cabinet like we have any interest in it,” Draco said with a roll of his eyes.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Well, watch this,” Crabbe said, pointing Blaise’s wand at the dark wooden piece of furniture. “<em>Incendie Exsecratus</em>!” </p><p>A burst of flames erupted from the wand, engulfing the cabinet and its surroundings in mere seconds. <em>Fiendfyre. </em></p><p>“Fuck!” Draco yelled, the heat already becoming almost unbearable. “Are you insane?!”</p><p>Crabbe swung his wand around, spreading the Fiendfyre to another pile of lost things. </p><p>“Mate!” Goyle hissed, shielding his eyes, “That’s enough, stop it!” </p><p>Crabbe swung around again, setting everything around them on fire in a matter of seconds. </p><p>“I don’t know how!” Crabbe yelled back, fire erupting from his wand wherever he pointed it. </p><p>“We have to get out of here,” Draco cursed, grabbing Potter’s hand as he pushed past his former friends. </p><p>“Wait!” Potter stopped, pointing his wand at the helpless, body bound Blaise on the ground. “<em>Finite Incantatem!</em>” </p><p>Draco felt an icy shiver running down his spine. He’d been so focussed on the Horcrux and getting himself and Potter out of there, he’d nearly left his old friend for certain death. </p><p>Potter helped Blaise up from the ground and they ran, sprinting around the corner to the place where Draco had last seen the diadem. And sure enough, it was still there, perched on top of a stone bust. He grabbed it and stuffed it into the pouch of his <em> hoodie</em>, the fyre coming closer and drowning their surroundings in a gulf of flames and unbearable heat. Draco felt sweat breaking out on his forehead as he quickly looked around, searching for a way out. The aisle down the middle was filled with a fire that almost looked like it was alive, devouring everything in its reach. </p><p>“The brooms!” Potter suddenly yelled, rummaging through his jacket pocket. He pulled out the tiny broomsticks they’d used to escape from Gringotts, and Draco wanted to kiss him. </p><p>“<em>Engorgio</em>!” </p><p>He handed Draco one of the brooms and they quickly took off, Blaise perched behind Draco, arms wrapped tightly around him. The heat felt singeing now, drenching him in sweat and making his skin feel like it, too, was on fire. </p><p>In front of him, Draco watched Crabbe and Goyle climbing up one of the highest piles in the room in an attempt to flee the fire at their feet. </p><p>“Potter! Fuck, we have to get them!” Draco yelled over his shoulder. One of the figures fell, immediately being swallowed up by the flames, and Draco tightened his grip around his broomstick. He blinked against the heat drying out his eyeballs, trying to keep his focus on the door. </p><p>“I got him!” Potter yelled from behind, and Draco sped up, dodging flames and falling objects as he did, screaming as the heat threatened to boil him alive. The flames had spread through the entire room within mere minutes, devouring centuries worth of Hogwarts history. They reached the door that was already getting smaller, the room closing itself off to save the castle. Draco burst through, crash landing on the floor outside and tumbling to the ground as Harry crashed down next to him, a singed looking Goyle on the back of his broom. The doors slammed shut, effectively locking the fiendfyre away. Goyle immediately scrambled off the ground and ran, likely to join his Death Eater friends now that Crabbe was gone and couldn’t boss him around anymore. </p><p>Draco let himself lay back on the ground, breathing heavily as the cool castle air washed over his sweaty skin. They’d made it, just so. Vince hadn’t. Vincent Crabbe was dead, and Draco couldn’t help the guilt creeping its way up his spine. Maybe if he hadn’t provoked him… Well, it was clear the Gryffindors were rubbing off on him again. </p><p>“I know what you’re thinking,” Blaise spoke up, sounding small and defeated in a way Draco had never heard him before, and he found him lying next to him on the floor, head turned towards him. “There‘s nothing you could’ve done. Vince, he… he bragged about being a Death Eater now for weeks. He was proud of it, showed off his mark wherever he went. He wanted you dead, no matter your past, Dray. He was too far gone.” </p><p>“Then why were you with him?” Draco asked, even as Harry stumbled over to him, kneeling down next to his torso, his hands roaming all over him, looking for damage. </p><p>“I’m fine, Harry,” he said softly, reaching out to cup his cheek. He was covered in ash and soot, his skin paler than usual underneath. “Maybe a slight burn here and there, nothing worse than you.” </p><p>“Okay. Okay, good.” Potter sat back on his heels, releasing a deep breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Draco sat up too, reaching for the Horcrux in his pouch. It was still there, the dark magic radiating off it making his burning Dark Mark tingle. </p><p>“I was with him because I thought it was the safest place to be tonight. I was trying to save my own skin and nearly got it all burned off.” Blaise shook his head, then tilted it as he turned to Draco.</p><p>“You’re the bravest fucking twat I’ve ever met, you know? You used to whine and  run away from everything, hide underneath your father’s robes like a coward. Look at you now. You took all that and threw it into the fire. It’s one thing to be born to the right side, it’s a whole other to make the choice to be there despite your upbringing. I don’t know what changed for you, Dray, but I admire you, now.” </p><p>Draco bit his lip and averted his eyes. He felt strangely warm at the compliment, but the Dark Mark on his arm had been constantly thrumming since they’d arrived at Hogwarts, angrily increasing its burn because Draco kept ignoring its call. The mark was a constant reminder of all his failings, all his mistakes. He wasn’t someone anyone should admire. </p><p>“I— I’m not <em> brave</em>, Blaise,” Draco said, teeth gritted. He pushed back his sleeve and revealed the ugly mark on his forearm. A sharp sort of pain shot through it, almost as if it was expecting Draco to finally comply. It was active; the snake curling around the skull in an endless circle. “If I was, I wouldn’t have to ignore the fucking pain this thing keeps causing me. I was dragged into this because I was too much of a coward to make a choice when it needed to be made. I kept telling myself I didn’t have one, that it was all my father’s fault. And he did ruin my life. But it wasn’t up to him. And now, I— I don’t even know what I’m doing.”</p><p>Draco closed his hands around the diadem in his pouch, its edges cutting painfully into his palms. </p><p>“Will you ever forgive yourself?” Potter asked quietly. </p><p>Draco’s head snapped around to him, surprised. </p><p>“Zabini is right, Draco. But you have to learn to forgive yourself for your past. It doesn’t have to define your present, or your future. You just saved his life.” </p><p>“I <em> didn’t</em>. I nearly forgot to free him from the body bind. You were the one who got Goyle. I’m not a hero, Potter, no matter how much you want me to be one.”</p><p>Potter stayed quiet, but there was a sparkle in his eyes Draco couldn’t quite place. As if he knew something Draco didn’t. It was quite unnerving. </p><p>“You should listen to your boyfriend, Dray. He’s quite the expert when it comes to heroism. And you did save me. Just take the fucking credit, you moron,” Blaise said with a shrug. Draco wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to argue with Potter and Blaise of all people. He still winced at the mention of his boyfriend, though. Was Potter his boyfriend? They hadn’t talked about it, and a battlefield was hardly the place for such a conversation. </p><p>“Alright,” he said, raising his hands, “I’ll think about it. Now, we really have to get rid of this damned diadem, Potter.” </p><p>Potter nodded, holding out a hand for Draco to take. Draco brushed off his jeans and took it, giving Blaise one last smile before letting himself be pulled down the corridor. </p><p>He almost felt like a fool for thinking he would get a moment to breathe tonight. </p><p> </p><p>Just as they turned the corner, there was an explosion echoing from the end of the corridor and Draco only saw a red head of hair and quickly cast a cushioning charm around the Weasley twin being thrown back by the force of the impact, flicking his wand before he even had a chance to think about it. Weasley bounced off the wall like it wasn’t made of stone and onto the cushioned floor, rocks and debris coming down around him. Draco and Potter ran down the hallway towards him, his brother Percy already kneeling by his side. </p><p>“Fred!” he cried. The twin’s eyes were closed, and he was bleeding from a gush on his forehead. For a moment Draco feared his spell hadn’t been good enough, but then Fred opened his eyes, grinning despite his injuries.</p><p>“Who was that?” he asked as he sat up, pressing a hand to his bleeding forehead. </p><p>“That was bloody brilliant.” </p><p>“Draco,” Potter provided. Draco shrugged. He’d merely cast a cushioning charm; it was hardly even NEWT level magic. </p><p>Fred Weasley met his eyes without any trace of suspicion and held out a hand for Draco to shake.</p><p>“You saved my life, mate. I really thought I was going to die when that explosion hit so close to me. I would’ve died. I owe you one.” </p><p>Draco took his hand, and there was a strange warm feeling washing over him. If that was how it always felt, Draco could see why Potter was so keen on saving people all the time. With Blaise insisting he’d saved him, too, Draco really was on a roll tonight. No one had ever told him about the waves of unprecedented warmth and satisfaction that came with saving people. </p><p>“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said honestly. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him and he tried to fight off the urge to hide his head somewhere. He knew Potter was proud of him, but he didn’t want to be admired for something that should only count as the bare minimum, which was a whole new <em> sickening </em> realisation in itself. </p><p>“We should go find Weasley and Hermione,” Draco said when the eyes on him felt too much. </p><p>Harry nodded and grabbed his hand again. </p><p>“Let’s go, hero.”</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. light a fire in the coldest hearts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello reader-ducklings. Yes. You almost didn't get one today but thankfully I have the best of all betas who kindly donated her time to this chapter tonight. </p><p>We're still at the battle of Hogwarts and things are getting angstyyyy. As to be expected on a battlefield, I suppose. Plus, I assume you all know the canon, so... anyway. This one was quite difficult for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it all the more.</p><p>Chapter title taken from "Melancholy Kaleidoscope" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What <em> the fuck </em> happened to you guys?” Hermione asked as her eyes roamed all over their dishevelled and slightly <em> singed </em> appearances when Harry and Draco found her and Ron in the entrance hall, as promised. Harry was more taken aback by the swear word than anything else. Hermione didn’t swear? </p><p>“Fiendfyre,” Draco said, and Hermione’s eyes widened. “What about you?”</p><p>Where he and Draco looked singed, Ron and Hermione were <em> drenched.  </em></p><p>“Have you been waiting long?” Harry asked before Hermione could answer. </p><p>“Oh, just the chamber putting up a fight. We’re fine, we’ve only been here a couple of minutes. <em> Fiendfyre</em>, though - how did you manage to get yourself in a situation that involved <em> Fiendfyre</em><em>?</em> It’s considered extremely dangerous because it is hard to control even for a very advanced magic user.” </p><p>“Crabbe cast it,” Draco said, “But he couldn’t control it. His own <em> stupidity </em> killed him.” </p><p>Draco’s voice was cold, but Harry knew better. Draco would break down over his old friend’s death at some point. Harry only hoped he would be there to catch him when it happened. </p><p>“Crabbe’s dead?” Ron asked, horrified, while Hermione’s eyes widened even further. Harry could already see more questions forming in her mind. He held up a hand to stop her before she could say another word, though. </p><p>“No offense, Hermione, but we really don’t have time for this. Let’s destroy the Horcrux. After that, it’s only <em> him </em> and the snake.” </p><p>Harry looked expectantly at his friends, urging them into action. There was a pause, then Ron fumbled a large basilisk tooth from his jacket pocket, and Draco pulled the diadem out of the pouch of his hoodie. </p><p>“Who wants to do the honours?” Draco asked. </p><p>“Not me,” Ron said, “Been there, done that.” </p><p>“I’ll do it,” Hermione announced, sending an annoyed glance in Ron’s direction. </p><p>She gripped the tooth tightly in her hand and Draco let the diadem drop to the floor in front of her feet. Just like the cup, the diadem tried putting up a fight, but as soon as the Horcrux started hissing about Hermione failing her NEWTS, she rammed the tooth into the diadem, causing thick black smoke to erupt from it as it broke in half. The smoke faded out with a sharp hiss, and Harry groaned in pain as his scar flared up again. He clutched a hand over it, gritting his teeth as he held onto Ron for support. </p><p>“He’s in pain, he’s angry. He’s… you were right, Draco. He thinks killing Snape will give him full control over the Elder Wand. He’s got him in the Shrieking Shack. The snake is there, too.” </p><p>“Well, let’s go, then!” Ron exclaimed, already running out of the castle, leaving Harry swaying on the spot. Hermione followed him, and Draco grabbed Harry’s hand to pull him along. The pain in his forehead was finally subsiding some, but the terror in his bones stayed, just like it had all night. </p><p>“Running straight into the Dark Lord’s lair instead of getting the fuck away from him… I must be<em> insane</em>,” Draco muttered to himself as they ran down the hill towards the Shrieking Shack. “Fucking Gryffindors.” </p><p>And if Harry had felt any lighter, their possible doom not quite so threatening, he would’ve chuckled. He was glad he had given Draco that chance in sixth year when no one else would, when everyone told him he was <em> bonkers, </em>first for suspecting Draco at all and then for offering him a hand. He’d only needed Harry to extend that hand he’d refused to extend in first year though, had only needed to be offered a choice he hadn’t even known he had. And Draco had still suffered greatly for it, but once he’d made his choice, he’d held onto it for dear life, despite all the odds in his way. </p><p>“Just plunging right into danger, with no plan whatsoever, why don’t we? Because that’s a good idea,” Draco kept muttering rather grumpily to himself. </p><p>He did have a point. But Harry didn’t know any different, either. He, Ron, and Hermione had always made up a half baked plan on the run, had arrived at the scene of danger, then all hell had usually broken loose, reducing their plan to ashes, and they’d improvised to save their backsides as well as the day, if necessary. </p><p>Harry had to admit that running into some shabby old magical house to face a madman with a wand and a snake without any plan seemed a bit… well, <em> dumb</em>. But he didn’t know what else to do, either, he wasn’t exactly an expert on warfare. So plunging in without a plan it was, despite Draco’s valid objections. </p><p> </p><p>They found Voldemort and Snape on the top floor of the shack. They carefully hid out of sight, crouching down under a window so they could all fit under the invisibility cloak while still watching the scene unfold before them. Harry could feel Draco tense beside him when Voldemort came into view, and he reached out to squeeze his knee in an attempt to comfort him. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew Draco had suffered more at the dark wizard’s hands than Harry had. More directly, anyway. He’d been put under the Cruciatus curse once, back in that cemetery that would forever haunt his nightmares, and he still shuddered at the memory of the all-consuming pain reaching ever single nerve-ending of his body. Draco had been put through that countless times. And maybe Voldemort hadn’t murdered his parents (yet), but Draco had suffered so much to make sure of that. </p><p>Voldemort held a whole speech about the Elder Wand disobeying him, as they’d assumed, and made it clear to Snape that he did indeed intend to murder him, despite his helpful and loyal allegiance over the years. </p><p>“No, no, no, no…” Draco whispered frantically, “This is all my fault, <em> again. </em>”</p><p>“Draco,” Harry said, intently meeting his eyes. Even in the moonlit shack his eyes were as grey as an ocean on a stormy day, and he could see a particularly heavy storm brewing in their depths. Draco hadn’t talked much about Snape to him before; but given the fact their former potions teacher had taken an unbreakable vow to protect Draco, he could only imagine the history there. Snape had always been rather fond of Malfoy, Harry seemed to recall. </p><p>“We can’t let him--” Draco started, and those grey eyes filled with horror as Voldemort commanded his snake to kill Snape, a vicious snarl on his thin white lips. Harry instinctively reached out to wrap an arm around Draco’s shoulders, a hand coming up to the back of his head to make him turn away and bury his face in Harry’s neck. </p><p>Nagini attacked Snape once, twice, three times, until the potions master was covered in blood and whimpering in pain. It seemed to think it had done its job, then, because it slithered away and down the stairs, following its master. <em> Fuck</em>. </p><p>Snape had killed Dumbledore, yes. He’d been a right bastard ever since Harry had first come to Hogwarts, yes. But he still didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to die such a vicious, painful death, when a simple killing curse would have sufficed. </p><p>Harry quickly peeled Draco away from him and stood up, nausea welling up in his stomach, rushing into the room and kneeling down beside Snape, checking his vitals. The man stared back at him intently, searching for his eyes. Harry stopped in his tracks, looking back into those dark eyes he’d always feared growing up. </p><p>“You have your mother’s eyes,” Snape said weakly. Harry swallowed. What? He knew he had his mother’s eyes, everyone had always told him so, but Snape? What did Snape of all people know about his mother? </p><p>Before Harry could ask, the man’s eyes wandered past Harry, finding someone else to focus on. </p><p>Draco. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Draco stared back at Snape’s black eyes, tears welling up in his own as he took in the state he was in. He was dying, there was no doubt about it. He’d said something to Harry, first, but Draco had been too busy staring, frozen in shock at the cruelty Voldemort had dealt to one of his most trusted followers without a moment’s hesitation. No one was safe from him, his ever changing temper, and the ruthlessness he left in his wake. Draco didn’t know how he could ever think there was a way he could be safe on his side, tucked away beneath his father’s coat.  </p><p>“Draco,” Snape croaked. Draco jumped. He’d never heard his former mentor sound so weak before, so fragile. “I’m sorry I failed you.”</p><p>Draco nearly choked as a sob rippled through him, leaving him breathless. This couldn't be happening. Severus couldn't just <em> die</em>. </p><p>“Take-- take them,” the man said, faintly gesturing to the tears rolling down his cheek, his eyes flickering between him and Harry. </p><p>Draco instinctively turned to Hermione, who was already rummaging through her bag, pulling out a small vial. She handed it to Harry, who pressed it gently against Snape’s cheek to collect his tears. </p><p>“Take them to a pensieve,” Snape said, more a breath of words than a sound. </p><p>“Severus…” Draco choked out, but his mentor had stopped moving, eyes staring unseeingly past Draco’s shoulders. He was dead. </p><p>Draco felt cold, icy shivers running down his spine as he looked at the man he’d grown up around, the man he’d always looked up to, the man who had taken an unbreakable vow to protect him. </p><p>“No, no, no…” he whimpered, sinking to his knees. He’d seen so many people die before, and it had always shaken him to his core, but seeing Vince fall into the flames of the fiendfyre, and then Severus fading out right before his eyes; two people he’d been close to for the most part of his life. He’d never felt loss on such a scale before. It was too much. Draco wept like the pathetic wimp he was, the insult appropriately provided in his father’s voice. </p><p>There was a pair of thin arms hugging him from behind, a head of bushy brown hair pressed against his cheek, and then another pair of familiar arms wrapping around him from his left, lips brushing soothingly against the side of his neck as comforting words were spoken. Surprisingly, there was a third pair of arms, tentatively coming around him from his right, a flash of red hair in the corner of his eyes. </p><p>Draco cried until he couldn’t anymore, the three most unlikely but arguably best friends he’d ever had wrapped around him in a comforting group hug, and not for the first time, he wondered how he deserved any of this. He’d antagonised these three people for years, had been mean and unnecessarily cruel to them, out of envy and unfounded bigotry; and yet here they were, making sure <em> he </em> was okay. </p><p>And Draco suddenly knew with absolute, obnoxious, <em> dumb</em>, appallingly Gryffindor-like certainty that he would willingly lay down his life for each of them; even Weasley, which shook him down to his very core; even though he’d never been selfless or brave ever before in his life. He didn’t quite understand where the impulse came from, now; what had changed. But he’d wished to die before, in the cowardly way, had wished to be released from the unbearable burdens he’d carried in sixth year. Dying for something he actually believed in didn’t seem that far of a plunge all of a sudden. </p><p> </p><p>He was flushed when the Golden Trio all pulled away from him, embarrassment spreading from deep in his bones over his chest and up to his cheeks. When he looked back to Severus, his lifeless dark eyes were closed, and if it wasn’t for the blood, he would’ve looked almost peaceful. </p><p> </p><p>Draco felt like he was stuck in some sort of haze all the way back to the castle. Severus’s unseeing eyes kept haunting his thoughts, replaying in his mind over and over again. Harry had taken his hand somewhere along the way, squeezing it gently whenever Draco was shaken by a shiver or a sob, his caring eyes watching over him like he might break the moment he looked away.  </p><p>“Why don’t you and Draco go to the pensieve in Dumbledore’s office to see what Snape wanted you to know. Ron and I will go see where we can help and maybe find a way to get to the snake,” Hermione said level-headedly when they reached the castle, her voice gentle and warm. Her calmness and the way she kept herself collected even in the middle of a war was astounding to Draco, and he admired her for it now more than he ever had before. </p><p>Before they could separate ways, though, Voldemort’s blood freezing whisper washed over the school again, or maybe it was just in their heads; but Draco’s Occlumency walls were up, and when he prodded them they stood unrelentingly. If Voldemort was really getting to all of their heads at once, Draco didn’t know how he was doing it. </p><p>Harry grabbed Draco’s arm, holding himself up as Draco gritted his teeth. If he never had to hear that horrifying, disturbingly evil drawl ever again, it would still be too soon. </p><p>Hermione sunk to her knees, hands pressed to her ears. </p><p>“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.” Harry tightened his grip around Draco’s arm. “Harry Potter. I now speak directly to you,” Tom Riddle said in a harsh whisper, and Draco felt his blood run cold all over again. “On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonour. Join me in the Forbidden Forest, and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me.” </p><p>Draco felt sick. Harry had gone pale, the dirt and dried blood on his face a stark contrast to his skin. His eyes were wide, and all Draco could see was a terrified 17-year-old boy who had never chosen any of this. He had never chosen to be a tyrant’s most wanted; he had never chosen to be the centerpiece of a war. No matter how brave he was, how selfless; he was just a kid, and right then Draco couldn’t even begin to fathom the weight on his shoulders, the pressure to save the entire Wizarding world from a powerful dark wizard while his friends were dying on a battlefield trying the same. </p><p>And through it all, Harry had not once lost his compassion, or his kindness. There was more strength in him than Draco had ever known. And Draco had envied him for so long but now… he just wanted to wrap him into his arms and never let him go. </p><p>“Harry, listen to me. It’s not your fault, okay? Those people out here… they died believing in a world free from tyranny and bigotry. They didn’t die for you. Don’t let him pin this on you.”</p><p>“He’s right, though, Hermione! People <em> died </em> out there, and where was I? I could’ve prevented all of this! I—” Harry threw his hands up in the air, face contorted with pain and conflict. </p><p>“Potter!” Draco snapped, “Stop being an <em> idiot </em> for once in your <em> life</em>! <em> You </em> were making sure we have a shot at defeating the bastard in the first place. Don’t let him get to you like this, it’s what he <em> wants</em>. He knows you <em> care</em>.” </p><p>Harry looked frantic now, and Draco hated it. But most of all, he hated the noseless bastard for exploiting Harry’s compassion; the same compassion that had changed Draco’s life, but that Tom Riddle wouldn’t know what to do with even if it was presented to him on a silver platter. </p><p>“But he will kill everyone, you know he will, if I don’t—”</p><p>“Potter!” Draco snapped again, “You will <em> not </em> give up now. Fucking hell, I gave up everything because I <em> believe </em> in you. You will not ruin this by running headfirst to your death like the stupid bloody Gryffindor you are, alright? And you will not face him alone. I have a bone or two to pick with the bastard myself.” </p><p>Harry stared at him with wide eyes and then slowly, hesitantly, he nodded. Hermione looked relieved. </p><p>“Please, Harry. Do not go into that forest by yourself. Listen to Draco. Listen to me. For once, let’s not do it the Gryffindor way.” </p><p>“Harry, mate, you know he’s only trying to wind you up. Let’s focus on getting the snake first. It’s like you said, it’s just him then,” Weasley spoke up, his freckles a stark contrast to his pale skin even in the dimly lit corridor. </p><p>“We need to be smart about this,” Hermione added. Harry only looked half convinced, but Draco knew that was all they were going to get from him. He was too selfless, too caring, his dumb saviour complex clouding his better judgment. He was <em> horrible</em>, and <em> wonderful</em>, and it was utterly <em> disastrous</em>. For once, though, Draco was grateful for his own natural instinct for self preservation. He only hoped it would be enough for him <em> and </em> Harry. </p><p>The four of them shared a meaningful glance, all nodding in agreement. Harry still looked shaken to the core, but Draco couldn’t blame him. </p><p> </p><p>A few moments later, Harry pulled him away, Hermione and Weasley heading in the opposite direction, resuming their original plan. But Draco stopped, turning back.</p><p>“Hermione! W... <em> Ron</em>,” he called. </p><p>The two of them looked over their shoulders, surprised. Weasley’s eyes were round like saucers. “Look out for yourselves,” he told them.</p><p>“You too, Draco,” Hermione said with a smile. </p><p>“Take care, mate,” Weasley said, still looking a bit taken aback, “<em> Draco </em>. Look out for Harry, too, yeah?” There was something in his eyes that told Draco he trusted his friend as little on the matter of turning himself in as Draco did. It was as comforting as it was disconcerting. </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>Draco had only been in the headmaster’s office a few times during his time at Hogwarts, surely nowhere near as often as Harry had. It still overwhelmed him, even after Severus had taken some of its magic away, leaving it more bleak than it had been during Dumbledore’s reign. There was something about the room that was just inherently magical, its magic reaching out and tangling itself with Draco’s somewhere deep inside. It was weaker now, and the room was cold, but Draco could still feel it simmering, like it was desperately trying to hold on. </p><p>Harry pulled him straight over to the hidden pensieve, clearly having used it before. Again, Draco wasn’t surprised. Harry must’ve spent a lot of time in Dumbledore’s humble abode over the years. He faintly remembered Harry telling him about some of the Voldemort-related memories the old man had shown him. </p><p>Harry didn’t hesitate, pouring Snape’s tears into the swirling blue liquid and diving straight in like it was nothing out of the ordinary at all. And Draco waited, anxiously picking at his sleeve as Harry’s hands tightened around the edges of the pensieve. He couldn’t have been in long, a few minutes maybe, even though it felt like hours to Draco, when his head snapped back up and he was gasping, breathing heavily as he leaned over the pensive, propped up on its edges. </p><p>Draco stepped forward, sensing that something must’ve upset the Gryffindor, but when Harry turned around to face him, he immediately threw his arms around Draco’s neck, pulling him close. The bone crushing embrace didn’t last long, though, before he stepped back a little and crushed his mouth to Draco’s instead, kissing him deeply and with a sense of desperation that seeped straight into Draco’s bones. Harry’s hands came up to cup Draco’s face, holding him steady as he slipped his tongue into his mouth, and Draco gasped, unable to do anything but kiss him back. Harry seemed so desperate, so intense, and Draco couldn’t help the dreadful, sinking feeling that something was very, very wrong. </p><p>“Draco, Draco, Draco…” Harry whispered between kisses. </p><p>The more Harry deepened their kiss, though, the more the anxiety rose in Draco’s chest. </p><p>Kissing Harry was all kinds of wonderful, it always was, disgustingly so, and Draco could never quite believe his luck, but now, even through the flutters in his stomach and the warmth on his lips making him feel like he was floating, the rising anxiety served like an anchor, keeping him grounded enough to push Harry away with a gentle but firm push to his chest. </p><p>“Harry,” Draco said slowly, breathing heavily, “What’s wrong? What did you see?” </p><p>Harry swallowed, eyes sad as they met his. </p><p>“Have a look for yourself,” he said, gesturing towards the pensieve. Something in Draco told him it wasn’t a good idea to leave Potter to his own devices for the few minutes it would take to view the memories Severus wanted them to see, but his own curiosity and the need for closure with the man edged him own, and he pressed one last soft kiss to Harry’s lips before turning towards the blue liquid and sinking his face into it the way Harry had done before. </p><p>Immediately, images and voices filled his senses, a young boy with raven black hair and dark eyes and a girl with ginger locks and familiar green eyes running over a meadow, laughing, both of them lying by a lake, flashes of them at Hogwarts, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Young Severus and Harry’s mother, Draco realised. Lily. He got more flashes of memories, Severus’s unrequited love for Lily, Potter’s father bullying him despite his friendship with her, his desperation when Lily was killed that night, holding her close to his chest as he wept. Then, Dumbledore telling him that Harry needed protection, that he was Lily’s son, after all, that he had her eyes. His own mother, encouraging Severus to play double, to protect his love’s son, for when the Dark Lord should return one day. They would need him some day, she said. Lucius would never willingly desert, she said, they needed Potter to do his part in defeating the Dark Lord. To protect Draco. </p><p>Draco’s head swam. His mother had been playing double, too? She’d known all along? </p><p>More images of Narcissa encouraging him over the years, reminding him that Harry was only a boy, just like Draco. That he wasn’t his father. Just like Draco. </p><p>Dumbledore telling Snape about the Horcruxes, the way Voldemort had split up his soul to ensure his survival; how he had unknowingly created another Horcrux the night he’d failed to kill Harry, though. It explained the connection they had, Dumbledore said, why Harry could speak with snakes. It was the piece of Voldemort’s soul that had attached himself to Harry when the killing curse rebounded and shattered Voldemort’s fragile soul further, the ritual complete because his mother had been sacrificed. Harry was a Horcrux, and suddenly it all made so much sense. That’s why Draco had always felt so irked about their connection, had always sensed that there was something more to it, something they couldn’t see… <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>The idiot had said goodbye to him! Draco was such a fool, he needed to pull out, he needed to— </p><p>But then Dumbledore mentioned his own name, and Draco halted. Dumbledore told Snape that he was dying of a curse, his right hand already turning grey from it. He said Draco had been ordered to kill him, but the boy wouldn’t be able to do it, and they couldn’t let him, either. His soul couldn’t be corrupted by a life taken, they needed to protect him. Dumbledore needed to die, and Voldemort needed to trust Snape completely, so there was only one way… </p><p>Draco forced himself to snap out of Severus’s memories with a gasp, quickly turning around, eyes looking for a familiar head of unruly dark hair. </p><p>But Harry was gone. Of course he was. He’d said goodbye with his kisses, he’d sent Draco into the pensieve knowing he couldn’t stop him if he was immersed in Snape’s memories. Stupid fucking Gryffindor. The <em> horrible </em>git! </p><p>“Fuck! Shit! You fucking idiot, you absolute dimwitted <em> fool</em>, reckless self sacrificing <em> tosser</em>,” Draco cursed even as he ran out of the room, his heart beating so fast he feared it might jump right out of his chest. Potter had gone off to <em> die; </em> to let himself be <em> killed </em> because he was a fucking Horcrux, and Horcruxes needed to be destroyed. And because he was a headless fucking Gryffindor he didn’t stop to ponder their options, <em> no, </em> he had to run off to sacrifice himself like the fucking saviour he was. Draco hated him so much, wanted to strangle him if Voldemort wasn’t already taking care of that. He had to suppress a sob as he ran down the stairs, his chest feeling tight, gut wrenching panic and blinding anger filling all his senses. He stopped in his tracks when he finally reached the Great Hall. </p><p>The floor was covered in lifeless bodies, arranged in rows so people had space to mourn them, and Draco felt a sob erupting from his chest at the horrifying sight, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. But he didn’t have time to break down, didn’t have time to let shock and grief consume him. He needed to save Harry. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, he let his eyes wander through the hall, hoping, praying to some entity he didn’t even believe in that he wouldn’t find Hermione or Weasley among the bodies on the ground. He almost doubled over in relief when he spotted them close to the giant fireplace, huddled together, Hermione’s face buried in Weasley’s neck as he held her tight. Draco quickly made his way over to them, almost stumbling over feet and mourning students crouching on the floor. </p><p>“Hermione!” he all but shouted as he came closer. Hermione’s head shot up, immediately looking alarmed when she took in the state of Draco. He could only assume he looked like he felt; which was <em> horrible</em>. </p><p>“Draco!” She pulled away from Weasley, eyes quickly looking around, likely in search of Potter. “What happened? Where is Harry?”</p><p>“He— oh, <em> Merlin</em>— it’s my fault, really, I shouldn’t have looked in the pensieve… We found out Voldemort accidentally created a Horcrux when he tried to kill Harry. A fragment of his soul attached itself to the nearest living being. <em> Harry</em>. And he… he looked first, and I knew something was up, he was all upset and desperate and I should’ve known… He told me to look myself, and when I came back out he was gone. He… he must’ve gone to him, he must’ve… we need to get to the forest, <em> now</em>, I—”</p><p>He knew he was rambling rather pathetically, but it was like he couldn’t stop, even when Hermione squeezed his shoulder and told him to take a deep breath. She looked devastated, but her voice remained calm. </p><p>“Draco. We can’t just waltz right in there. He will kill us on sight, and you know it. I know Harry is too self-sacrificing, but… I think in this case we might have to trust him.” </p><p>Draco spluttered.</p><p>“Granger! I know your mind goes down windy paths sometimes, which I usually admire, but right now, are you <em> insane</em>? He can’t be trusted! He just went to his death! How can we just stand around here arguing, when he’s turning himself over to be <em> killed</em>!” </p><p>Draco stared at Hermione like she’d just grown two heads. After all they’d been through… she couldn’t be serious. </p><p>“‘Mione, Malfoy is right! Harry always does this thing where he jumps into danger head first and thinks later.” Draco scoffed. It really wasn’t just Harry. “We can’t just… lose him, because he didn’t think this through.” </p><p>“It doesn’t help if we run after him to our deaths without a plan, either!” Hermione argued. They didn’t have time for this.</p><p>“Look, if you two want to stay here, <em> fine</em>. But I’m going. <em> Now</em>,” Draco told them, going against every last of his Slytherin instincts. He knew perfectly well he was behaving like a bloody Gryffindor on their worst day, but the prospect of living in a world without Harry Potter let his blood grow cold and clenched itself around his heart, squeezing so tightly Draco feared it might shatter into a million pieces. </p><p>“Draco! Wait—”</p><p>Balling his hands into fists, Draco turned around and navigated his way back through the obstacle course of bodies and mourners, quickly heading out through the entrance hall and out of the castle. He didn’t get any further, though, because there was a whole army of Death Eaters approaching across the bridge, led by a familiar grey-white figure clad in dark robes. Freezing in his motions, Draco came to a halt on the front steps to the castle, someone bumping into him from behind. Hermione and Weasley must’ve decided to follow him after all. </p><p>“What’s happening?” Weasley asked, voice shaking. Longbottom, who was standing a bit further down the steps surrounded by fallen rocks and debris, turned around with wide eyes. </p><p>“They’re coming!” he shouted fearfully, but with a look of unwavering resolution on his face. So this was it, then, Draco thought, swallowing hard. The Dark Lord had killed Harry, and now he was coming to kill them all. </p><p>Draco stumbled down the the stairs, heart beating so hard he could barely hear or see anything around him but the approaching figures. Someone tall, long silver blond hair spilling over his shoulders, just behind Voldemort. His mother right next to Lucius, half covered by Hagrid who— <em> no </em>. No no no. Hagrid was carrying someone, a head of dark hair lolling over his massive arm. </p><p>“Hermione,” Draco whispered through gritted teeth. “Tell me Hagrid is <em> not </em> carrying Harry.” </p><p>There was no reply. A petite hand was sliding into his, though, fingers entwining as she squeezed softly. Draco turned his head to Hermione, hoping to find something there that would keep him from tumbling down that dark well of desperation and fear in his chest. Her eyes were wide, though, as were Weasley’s. Both of them were staring at the approaching army of Death Eaters, eyes glued to Harry’s lifeless body in Hagrid’s arms. </p><p>He was too late. He’d failed. He’d failed again and it was all over now, they would all die, and when Harry was already dead, he found with a start, he didn’t even mind dying that much. He’d just wished better for his friends, honestly. </p><p>While Draco had been busy holding onto that edge of the well in his chest, trying so hard to keep himself from breaking down, the Order members and students of the DA had spilled out of the castle, watching in horror as their enemy approached. </p><p>They stopped, maybe 50 meters away, the noseless nutter framed by hundreds of dark clad Death Eaters, Draco’s father right next to him, front row. Anger rose in his chest, and he squeezed Hermione’s hand too hard, he knew, but it was only to keep himself from screaming at Lucius across the chasm between the factions. </p><p>“<em>Harry Potter is dead!”</em> Voldemort announced, his uncomfortably shrill voice loud now, but still bearing traces of that blood freezing whisper. </p><p>And Draco felt himself crumble.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did you all notice how Draco seems more inclined to call Harry by his first name the more emotionally distressed he feels? Food for thought.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. i'm a supernova and you're my four-leaf clover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so much for your comments, darling readers! There's honestly little that brings me more joy right now, so I really appreciate it.</p><p>This is the last battle of Hogwarts chapter. And I can safely promise that most of the questions you hoped to get answers to will indeed be answered. I hope you'll enjoy my take on this. </p><p>Chapter title taken from "Glitter &amp; Crimson" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione was tightly holding onto Draco’s arm, and there was another pair of stronger arms wrapping around her from the side. For a moment, it was deafeningly silent in the yard, and Draco could hear his own heart pumping blood through his veins even as his whole world seemed to fall apart. </p><p>“No! No!” Ginny came running out from behind them, screaming at the top of her lungs. Without thinking, Draco grabbed her arm as she tried to rush past him. </p><p>“Ginny,” he said with authority he didn’t feel. He felt numb in a way that scared him just as much as it kept him from breaking down right there on the cobblestones. </p><p>“Stop,” he begged, pulling at her arm. </p><p>She crashed into his chest, and Draco wrapped his free arm around her, holding her tight. </p><p>“Shhh,” he hummed gently, barely holding on himself. If Harry was dead, what was there left to fight for? To live for? </p><p>The Death Eaters laughed heartily, and Draco felt sick all over again. His mark burned, and for a moment Draco thought it might singe a hole in the sleeve of his hoodie. He groaned, pain, anger, grief, nausea, and terror all swirling together in his chest and making it hard to breathe. </p><p>He faintly noticed that Arthur Weasley had stepped up next to them, one hand firmly on Ginny’s shoulder. </p><p>“Stupid girl,” the Dark Lord said, breaking apart from his group of devoted followers and coming closer. “Harry Potter is dead,” he repeated, and it felt like a stab to Draco’s chest. Potter’s stupidly green eyes appeared like a flash in Draco’s mind, his lips pressing against his only half an hour ago. He couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t be. He was supposed to save them all! </p><p>“From this day forth, you put your faith in me,” Tom Riddle said calmly. Draco thought he’d rather die. Not even in his ranks had he ever put his faith in the murdering madman. </p><p>“Harry Potter is dead!” he shouted, this time, gleefully, an evil smile growing on his noseless face. Draco hated him with every last cell of his body. The Death Eaters laughed again, his aunt’s voice obnoxiously sounding above all the others. Lucius was laughing, too, and Draco didn’t know what to do with the fury and disappointment that grew so deep within him, right down at his very core. His mother, however, stood stoically, her eyes flickering between Draco and Harry’s body in Hagrid’s arms. </p><p>Draco frowned. </p><p>“Hahaha!” Voldemort laughed idiotically, “And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us. Or die.” </p><p>The whole yard grew deafeningly silent. No one was moving, no one even dared to look up, or speak. Minutes passed, though it was likely merely seconds, until Lucius took a step forward, eyes on Draco. </p><p>“Draco!” he shouted insistently, making Draco’s blood boil. A hand was extended in his direction, and Draco stared back at his father, lips curling with contempt. “Draco!” Lucius said again, voice lowered to a hushed tone. </p><p>Draco knew every single eye in the yard was fixed on him, and his face flushed with the fury he felt deep in his chest. He didn’t move an inch, eyes narrowing at the man he’d once dedicated his life to pleasing. Hermione squeezed his hand, and Draco released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. His arm tightened around Ginny in an attempt to ground himself. Ginny stroked her hand over his back in a soothing motion, and Draco stood a bit straighter, defying gaze landing on the Dark Lord. </p><p>“It seems your son’s allegiance has changed, Lucius,” he said coldly, amusement apparent only his face, “What a shame. But I feared so, when he refused to answer my call, despite being in the presence of Harry Potter. A waste, if you ask me, of a perfectly good mark. I had such high hopes for you, Draco.” Red eyes fixed on Draco, making him shiver. “I did not wish for your death. But there is no greater dishonour than betraying me, betraying your family, so your only punishment can be. Death.” </p><p>The Dark Lord cackled, and Draco refused to look away, chin out and proud. If he was to die now, at least he could do so without feeling like an awful bastard. He’d done the<em> right thing</em>, Harry’s annoying voice provided, and Draco nearly broke down crying again. </p><p>A few people were stepping up, blocking Draco from Voldemort’s view. Lupin, he realised. Luna and Longbottom. Ginny, freeing herself from his grip and pointing her wand. Ron, stepping up from behind Hermione. Even McGonagall came rushing forward, wand drawn. </p><p>“Aww, Draco, you think your brave little friends can prevent your fate? I’m just going to have to kill them all!” Voldemort still sounded amused, but Draco felt something strange blossom in his chest. Warmth, he noticed; like he belonged somewhere, and people were willing to fight for him. He wasn’t sure how he deserved any of their loyalty, but he felt his throat constrict, sobs threatening to spill out. He didn’t want any of them to die, especially not in a foolish attempt to protect <em> him </em> of all people, Dark Mark and all. </p><p>“Nagini,” Voldemort commanded, “I hope you enjoy your lush feast!” </p><p>The snake slithered out from beneath his robes, making its way across the chasm to their side. It stopped right in front of Longbottom, who stood at the front of their group, and Draco gripped his wand tightly, ready to jump out to protect him as it got ready for attack, but before he could move so much as a foot, Neville pulled a sword out of the Sorting Hat Draco hadn’t even realised he’d been holding in his free hand. He swung it, screaming, and it slid smoothly through the snake’s skin, beheading it in one swift movement. A cloud of familiar black smoke emanated from its body, and then Voldemort was screaming, gripping his head in pain, but Draco’s attention was drawn to a commotion amongst the Death Eaters, just in time to see Harry roll off Hagrid’s arms, falling to the ground with a thud and jumping to his feet, wand pointed at his enemy. </p><p>He was alive. </p><p>Harry Potter was alive. </p><p>Stupid, impossible, <em> horrible </em> Gryffindor! </p><p>A heavy weight lifted from Draco’s chest at once, and it was like the edges of his world were colouring in again. He hadn’t even noticed them draining, turning to grey as this boy that resided so close to his heart had left his world for a short time. </p><p>Voldemort didn’t even have time to recover from the pain of losing his last Horcrux, his cold and calculated mask slipping to reveal a flash of surprise before it was replaced by fury as Harry was firing jinxes at him, quickly crossing the chasm between the factions towards his friends. </p><p>The Death Eaters were disapparating left and right now, sensing their doom, until only about a fourth of them were left. Draco watched his father pull at his mother’s arm, urging her along, but Narcissa had her eyes fixed on Draco, throwing a jinx at Lucius to keep him away. </p><p>He tore his eyes away, finding Harry again instead. He’d made it across, already circled by their friends as McGonagall ushered them all back inside the castle. Voldemort had disappeared, though Draco was sure this was far from over yet, and only the familiar sound of his mother calling his name made Draco turn back. She was rushing towards him, his father nowhere to be seen. </p><p>“Mother!” Draco called back. He was desperate to get to Potter, but the scared little boy inside him made him stay where he stood, waiting for his mother’s embrace. And it came, warm and comforting in a way it never had been before. He’d never known his mother to be one for hugs; their relationship had always been rather stiff on that front, acting according to his father’s wishes for proper pureblood customs. And pureblood sons were not to be coddled. Apparently that included parental comfort and physical shows of affection. Now, though, she was hugging him tightly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders almost like she’d been longing to hold him like this for a very long time. Maybe she had. A sob of relief escaped Draco’s lips, and he clung to her like he was five years old again and had just fallen off his broom. Or like he was eight and his father had just used the killing curse on the bunny Draco had saved in their gardens. Only this time he wasn’t stiffly peeled away from her, brushed off like he was merely a bug on her robes. </p><p>“Oh, Draco. Oh, my darling son. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so proud of you,” Narcissa said softly as she pulled away a little and cupped Draco’s cheek, her eyes gentle and caring. “My boy, I’m so sorry I could not protect you the way I should have. Watching you suffer in your own home, a place that was supposed to be safe for you… I will never forgive myself. I never told you this in so many words, but I love you, Draco. I do. I wish I could’ve been stronger for you.”</p><p>There were tears on her cheeks, so Draco reached up to wipe them away, his own sobs still shaking his body. For so long, he’d thought he was all alone; that he was going to be alone; that his mother was too far on his father’s side. </p><p>“Mother,” Draco said quietly, “It’s okay. There’s nothing you could’ve done without putting yourself in harm’s way. It’s not your fault.” <em> It’s father’s</em>, he didn’t say.</p><p>“Draco, my love. I will never abandon you again. I love your father dearly, but if he continues to follow this path of self-destruction… I cannot support him.” </p><p>Draco kissed his mother’s cheek, impatience and anxiety growing in his stomach the longer he stood outside the castle with her. He needed to get to Harry. Ridiculous, stupid, <em> brilliant </em> Potter. </p><p>“I’m glad, mother. I-- please excuse me, I really need to find Harry now. I don’t know how the bastard managed to survive…” he muttered the last part, yes flickering around the yard. It was empty now, the fight continuing within the castle walls. </p><p>“It’s okay, Draco. I’ll be fine. Go find your boy.” </p><p><em> His </em> boy? Draco stopped and frowned, but decided quickly that now was not the time or place to discuss his love life with his mother. Narcissa had always been exceptionally perceptive; Draco had never been able to keep secrets from her. So it wasn’t surprising, really, if she suspected something. </p><p>Draco ran inside, frantically looking around the entrance hall. Curses were flying left and right, and Draco had to dodge several to get to the Great Hall, where he found Harry staring at a body on the ground, eyes wide. Draco’s heart stopped all over again as he came closer, quickly scanning the room, counting all his friends present. He found them all, a wave of relief washing over him, even as his eyes landed on the person sprawled on the floor. Draco recognised her from the Order. <em> Tonks </em>, he thought Harry had called her. She looked familiar in a way Draco couldn’t quite place; a little like his mother, maybe. Draco shivered, and he tore his eyes away, finding Harry instead. The boy’s eyes widened when he spotted him, and he rushed towards him, throwing his arms around Draco’s neck. </p><p>“You absolute fucking <em> arsehole</em>, Potter,” Draco whispered furiously into Harry’s messy hair. “You were saying goodbye! Without even telling me! You just went to get yourself killed! I thought you were dead, I thought it was all over you— you— you <em> wanker</em>!”</p><p>Draco held onto Potter so tightly, it was a miracle he was still able to breathe.</p><p>The boy chuckled. “That’s <em> crude</em>, Malfoy. Where did your posh upbringing go?” </p><p>“I must’ve left it outside. You know, when<em> I thought you were dead</em>.” </p><p>Harry hummed. </p><p>“Honestly, I thought I <em> was </em> going to die. I <em> did </em> die. But I had this,” he said, pulling away and holding up a black, polished stone, shaped into a small pyramid. Draco’s eyes widened.</p><p>“The resurrection stone?” </p><p>“It was in the snitch. It opened up when I needed it, just like it said.” </p><p>Draco let out an unhappy grunt. </p><p>“Stupid Dumbledore with his ridiculous riddles. <em> Horrible </em> man. Why couldn’t he just give you the stone?” </p><p>Harry shrugged, rubbing a hand over his lightning scar. </p><p>“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. It’s… it’s just him now, Draco. No Horcruxes left. He’s still here, though, I can feel his presence, even though the piece of his soul is gone. I think he’s regrouping. But it’s like… like some heavy weight I didn’t even realise was there is just gone, you know? I feel different, but in a good way.” </p><p>Draco reached up to caress Harry’s cheek, fingertips gently grazing his cheekbone. His green eyes were so bright, his jawline so sharp, and even covered in dirt and blood, there was something so stupidly beautiful about him. </p><p>He leaned in to brush his lips over Harry’s, a soft kiss that was barely even there, paying no mind to anyone watching. It didn’t matter now. </p><p>Something tingled at the back of his neck, though, a weird sensation indicating he was being watched, and Draco snapped around, facing his manically grinning aunt. Of course she hadn’t left like most of the others Death Eaters. Sometimes Draco thought she really loved <em>her</em> <em>Dark Lord</em>, in a really weird and twisted way for sure, but loved him nonetheless. </p><p>“I knew it,” she screeched, wand pointed right at Draco’s chest, “Made yourself Harry Potter’s <em> whore </em>, did you? You are a shame to this family—”</p><p>“No,” Narcissa said sternly, suddenly appearing on Bellatrix’s left. “<em>You </em> are. You’re so blinded by your need for the Dark Lord’s attention, his approval, Bella. For a long time, I didn’t want to see it. But you’re consumed by it. Azkaban gave you the rest, your first class ticket to <em> madness</em>. I should’ve listened to Andromeda.” </p><p>“Cissy!” Bellatrix screeched, “Your <em> son </em> has been caught <em> fraternising </em> with the Dark Lord’s biggest enemy. And now, he’s going to die,” she said cruelly, a mad grin on her ugly face. She’d been pretty once, Draco knew, having seen old pictures of the sisters. But devoting her life to an evil dark wizard had turned her ugly in every way possible. </p><p>“No,” Ginny said, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as she jumped in front of Draco. <em> Again </em>. Her Gryffindor saviour complex seriously started rivalling Potter’s. Draco could see why the git had felt drawn to her once. </p><p>Bellatrix flicked her wand and had Ginny in a body bind before anyone could even react, but then, just as suddenly, Molly Weasley was there, yelling “<em> Petrificus totalus</em>!” and Bellatrix froze where she stood. </p><p>“Not my daughter, you <em> bitch, </em>” Mrs Weasley growled. </p><p>Draco’s mother rushed to her side, sad eyes fixed on Bellatrix’s frozen stare. </p><p>“Not my son, either, Bella. You’ve gone too far.” </p><p>She exchanged a nod with Molly Weasley, and then there was green light and Bellatrix fell to the ground with a thud, life drained from her body. </p><p>Narcissa immediately dropped her wand and raised her hands, sinking to the floor crying, eyes still fixed on her dead sister. </p><p>“Mother!” Draco rushed to her side, pulling her in a tight embrace. Her eyes wandered away from Bellatrix, landing on Tonks instead. A sob escaped her lips, and Draco realised with a start that he’d never seen his mother cry before. She’d always been so calm and collected, even in the face of torture. She’d never lost her posture like this. </p><p>“Nymphadora,” she whispered. “No…” </p><p>So his mother knew her? <em> Oh</em>. That’s why she looked so familiar. </p><p>“She’s Andromeda’s daughter, isn’t she?” Draco asked quietly. His cousin. Narcissa nodded, and Draco felt a heavy weight plummeting in his stomach.</p><p>He had no time to dwell on it, though, because Harry squeezed his shoulder, eyes resolute. He was going to finish this. </p><p>“I’m coming with you,” Draco said, already getting to his feet. </p><p>“No,” Harry said firmly, “He’ll kill you before you even get a chance to raise your wand. I have to do this alone.” </p><p>Draco looked at him for a long moment, taking him in. Then he nodded. He understood now. What Hermione had meant when she said they needed to trust him. His whole life had been leading up to this, no matter how much he had never asked for it. </p><p>“Don’t die this time, you idiot, or I swear I will find a way to resurrect you just so I can kill you again myself,” he said.</p><p>“I don’t doubt that for a second. But I have no intention to die, arsehole,” Harry replied with a smile. He pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips, and then he was off to vanquish their shared nightmare once and for all. Draco looked after him, chest filled with terror and hope in equal measures. He had to trust this ridiculous, horrendously wonderful boy now. Their fate was in his scrawny pale hands. </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>Draco looked through the hall, ready to cast another body bind, but found that all the battles had ceased, that the ground was covered in bodies and body bound wizards and witches, some knocked unconscious, some barely hanging on. The only ones left standing were students and Order members, and for the first time in hours, Draco allowed himself a sigh of relief. He’d battled at least a dozen Death Eaters in the past half hour, all of them now in a body bind on the floor, waiting for their punishment. </p><p>He spotted Ron and Hermione at the other end of the hall, standing with Ginny, Neville, Luna, the Weasley twins, Lupin, and the rest of the Weasley clan. His mother was sat on a bench close by, robes tightly wrapped around herself, watery eyes staring at the ground.</p><p>He slowly made his way over to them, careful not to step on anyone - which was much harder than it should have been. </p><p>When he reached them, Ginny immediately pulled him into a hug. </p><p>“I’m glad you’re okay, Ferretboy,” she said softly. </p><p>“You too, Weaselgirl.” </p><p>Hermione was next, squeezing Draco tightly, the smile on her lips replacing all the words she could have said. </p><p>“I hear you saved my boy’s life,” Arthur Weasley spoke up when Hermione released him. </p><p>“You should’ve seen him!” Fred shouted, much louder than necessary in the eerily quiet hall. “Barely even bat an eyelash as he did!” </p><p>“Oh.” Draco felt himself flush. For someone who loved praise as much as he claimed he did, he found that he didn’t quite know what to do with it when it came from a group of people he’d successfully antagonised his whole life because they <em> hadn’t </em> deigned to praise him. He’d always wanted their admiration, but now that he had it, had earned it rightfully too, he didn’t want it anymore, didn’t feel like he deserved it after everything he’d said and done to them. “It was nothing, really. I saw him being blown off his feet by the force of the explosion and I cast a cushioning charm, that was all, really.” </p><p>“His reflexes were <em> mad!”</em> Fred went on, and Draco felt his cheeks heat further. He shrugged.</p><p>“Thank you,” Arthur Weasley said, suddenly pulling him in an awkward, fatherly hug, patting his back a bit more forcefully than necessary. Draco stared, unable to process what he was currently being subjected to. </p><p>“I should thank you, too,” Lupin spoke up, stepping forward from the back of the group.</p><p>“You see, after you saved Fred’s life, he saved mine. So if it wasn’t for you and your quick thinking, we would both be with the others on the floor right now.” </p><p>Draco swallowed hard, struggling to maintain the intense eye contact with their former DADA teacher. </p><p>“It seems Harry’s judgment regarding you was completely justified. Which leads me to believe I should also apologise for my behaviour towards you at Shell Cottage.” </p><p>Draco stared for a moment longer, then cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. He’d never felt awkward ever before in his life, what was happening to him? </p><p>“I— I can’t blame you. I deserved that. But I accept your apology.” </p><p>Lupin nodded, Neville grinned at him from behind, Ron stepped up to clap him on the shoulder, and Fred came over to sling an arm around Draco’s shoulders. </p><p>“Who would’ve thought, huh?” the twin said.</p><p>Yeah, who would’ve thought Draco would end the war surrounded by a large group of grateful Gryffindors? </p><p>A forceful scream made all their heads snap up unanimously and Draco felt his blood freeze all over again. </p><p><em> Harry</em>. </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>When they reached the yard, Harry was tightly gripping his wand, screaming as he forced the red beam of his <em> Expelliarmus </em> along against the green of Voldemort’s killing curse. The once so mighty Lord looked ashen, crumbling, like he could barely hold on. Harry was winning, the red inching along as his enemy could barely keep standing up. And then, suddenly, there was no green, and the Elder Wand flew across the yard towards Harry as the Dark Lord crumbled, keeling over and falling to the floor where he remained unmoving, limps sprawled pathetically around him.</p><p>For a moment, it was deadly silent in the yard. No one even dared to move a finger. </p><p>Then, when Voldemort still wouldn’t move after a minute or two, everyone burst into cheers, and Draco ran down the stairs towards Harry, flinging his arms around him, and someone else was crushing into his back, another pair of arms, and another, until he found himself in the middle of the biggest group hug he’d ever seen. He didn’t even care, though, only breathing Harry in, chest feeling light as relief washed over him, starting fireworks on his nerve endings. It was <em> over </em> . The Dark Lord was defeated. They had <em> won </em>. Harry Potter had vanquished the darkest wizard of their time, again, for good this time, at only 17 years old. And now Harry Potter was clinging to him of all people, and his friends were clinging onto them both, and Draco felt himself cry tears of unprecedented joy.</p><p> </p><p>++H++ </p><p> </p><p>Tom Riddle had fallen like any ordinary man. He’d keeled over, weak, mortal, a far cry from the godlike creature he’d wanted to become. </p><p>It was over, now. </p><p>For the first time in his life, Harry was free. And yet, it took him some time until relief even reached the outer parts of his system. He was too shaken up, too horrified by the sight of the bodies in the Great Hall. This war had cost many lives, and Harry couldn’t help feeling like he could have prevented the death of so many of them, if only he’d turned himself in earlier. </p><p>He stood by the edge of the half-collapsed stone bridge leading to the castle, the early morning sun warming his face. He let his fingers wander over the knobbly wood of the Elder Wand, thoughts everywhere and nowhere all at once. </p><p>He heard footsteps behind him, unsurprised when he found Ron, Hermione, and Draco, all stopping at a safe distance. </p><p>“You were right, Draco. It didn’t do his bidding, right to the end,” he said slowly, eyes wandering over the hills surrounding the castle. “He didn’t know. Your disarming Dumbledore to stall… it saved us all.” Harry paused. “I wonder if he knew.” </p><p>“What are you going to do with it, Harry?” Hermione asked carefully, and Harry looked down at the wand, remembering all the evil it had done. It was an easy decision, really. </p><p>Forcing all his strength into it, he broke the wand in two, throwing the pieces over the edge of the bridge. </p><p>“No one should have that much power,” he said, turning around. His eyes landed on Draco, who was staring off into the distance, grey eyes glistening in the golden light of the sun. His silvery hair was like a halo around him, his pale skin looking even more startling under all the dirt and dried blood. He looked so beautiful right then, even battle worn, it almost took Harry’s breath away. </p><p>He pulled out Draco’s wand, letting his fingers trace over the soft, smooth Hawthorn wood as he took the few steps separating them. Draco met his eyes, and Harry couldn’t quite read the look in them. He reached out and placed the wand back in Draco’s hand. </p><p>“Here it is,” he said softly, “The wand that vanquished the mighty bastard, <em> Lord Voldemort</em>. <em> Your </em> wand.”</p><p>There was a smile pulling at Draco’s lips. </p><p>“You can keep it, you know?” </p><p>Harry hummed. </p><p>“No. I don’t think so. It’s yours. It served me exceptionally well - curiously, if you think about it. It almost felt like my own. But it was yours first, and you gave it to me so I could defeat Tom. I did. And now I’m giving it back.” </p><p>Draco’s smile widened, and Harry pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was rather curious indeed, that Draco’s wand had done every last of Harry’s bidding, and complemented Harry’s magic like only his own wand had ever done before. But maybe it wasn’t curious at all, Harry thought as he was looking at the Slytherin, his grey eyes fixed on his newly regained wand. The pull he’d always felt towards him was stronger now, rooted somewhere deep in Harry’s chest. </p><p>There was a long moment of comfortable silence between the four of them. It broke only when Ron spoke up, voice low. </p><p>“So. What now, mates?” </p><p>“Now we get to live,” Draco said quietly, an edge to his voice, almost like he feared the implication of his own words.</p><p>Now they got to live.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Phew. Wouldn't it be rude to end this here? Ha. But no. We got 3 chapters and an epilogue left. It's one thing to fall in love during a war, it's another to have a whole ass committed relationship after, isn't it? </p><p>Stay tuuuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. color me with doubt, so much that we didn't see through</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello hello, welcome to rainbows and sunshine. Not quite? Hmm. We will see what post-war life has in store for our boys. Slightly sooner today 'cause I have to get up awfully early tomorrow. </p><p>Hope you enjoy! As always, thank you so much for the kudos &amp; the comments. Waking up to comments is pretty cool, ngl. </p><p>Chapter title taken from "Trouble Is" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As it turned out, it would still take quite some time until they actually got to live. The first few weeks and months after the war passed in a blur of rebuilding the ministry, re-electing their officials while sorting out the Death Eaters and Voldemort sympathisers, arrests, preparations for the Death Eater trials, and general chaos while Wizarding Britain tried to heal and regain peace and order. There were also funerals every day, grief and mourning ever present, families coming back together while others had to learn they never would be again. </p><p>Draco was put under arrest for a few hours, until Harry stormed in there, making a whole scene about the audacity those people had for arresting someone who had played a vital part in winning the war for them. He was released upon Harry’s insistence, but of course, they made him go on trial anyway. For being a marked Death Eater. </p><p>Draco’s trial was the first, the opening of the Death Eater trials, just a day before his birthday. Draco looked shaken and pale sitting chained to a chair in the middle of the courtroom, but there was a whole line of people willing to speak up in his defense, and so, to nobody’s surprise, Draco was acquitted and freed of all charges. </p><p>Harry took him flying on his birthday, soaring through the lands of Hogwarts, playing seekers games and chasing each other as they laughed, and cried, and foolishly attempted to kiss high up in the air, almost causing them both to tumble off their brooms. At the end of the day, they were both hungry and sunburned, but smiling widely at each other as they kissed on the floor of Harry’s kitchen at Grimmauld place, having fallen over while fighting over the last piece of cake Molly had sent to Harry’s house the day before, to celebrate Draco’s acquittal. They were still making out on the tiles when Ron and Hermione arrived, both flushed as Ron covered his eyes and Hermione giggled. </p><p>“I will never get used to this,” Ron groaned. </p><p>When Luna, Neville, and Ginny arrived, Fred and George in tow, Harry and Draco were decent again, lounging in their chairs like people normally did when they were expecting guests. It was a small celebration, subdued, the war and all the wounds it had left still too fresh in everyone’s minds. It was good, though, being surrounded by all his friends, the relief now more palpable. </p><p>After they’d all left, Harry took Draco to bed, carefully peeling away his clothes as his hands roamed over every inch of his pale skin. He had more scars now, minor curse wounds from the battle, but they only made him all the more beautiful. Harry made sure to take his time kissing every single one of them, spending extra time on the long, thin Sectumsempra scars he was guilty of putting on Draco’s skin himself. He wondered faintly if he would ever get over the urge to apologise for them, over the guilt of causing this beautiful boy any harm at all. </p><p>Draco flipped them over once Harry was done with his thorough exploration of his body, stripping him of his clothes in turn, pressing soft kisses to Harry’s own scars. He had loads of them, too, scattered all over his body, the most prominent probably being the <em> I must not tell lies. </em>tattooed in scar tissue onto his skin, white against his soft tan. </p><p>“Have you figured it out yet?” Draco asked as his mouth brushed over a faded scar on Harry’s shoulder, probably from his encounter with Quirrel and Voldemort in first year. </p><p>“What?” Harry moaned softly when Draco reached his nipple. </p><p>“<em>Me</em>.”</p><p>Harry hummed. Memories of confused, angry kisses behind tapestries flashed through his mind. He hadn’t known much about Draco at all, then. He’d been his childhood bully, the person who could make him more angry than anyone else, that boy who always knew how to get under his skin. But he’d also been someone Harry could never quite figure out; someone who’d been hiding beneath his arrogance,  wrapped in a coat of insults and snide comments. Until Harry had gotten a glimpse of the boy living inside. Someone who’d gotten dragged into this war against his will, much like Harry. Someone who was scared but felt like he had to hide it no matter the cost, much like Harry. He’d seen compassion buried somewhere deep down, traces of a decent human being he’d suddenly felt so determined to uncover. And then he’d slowly watched Draco emerge from behind his layers; he’d seen courage, and loyalty. He’d seen compassion, and skill. He’d seen someone he could laugh and joke with, someone he could fight with and always remain on equal grounds, someone he could talk to without ever feeling like he had to hold back. </p><p>The war, and the trauma that had come with it was still too fresh, too raw, and it was all they’d ever known together. But Harry had come to genuinely<em> like </em> Draco; he’d been falling for months now, and that alone was something that still confused him if he thought about it for too long. It was hard to reconcile the Draco he knew from his childhood with this Draco, who was currently kissing his way down to Harry’s dick. </p><p>“I think I’m getting there,” Harry said honestly, and received a hum in return. </p><p>Draco looked up at him, a small smiling dancing around his lips as he tilted his head. </p><p>“I think I’m getting there, too,” he said. Harry reached out to run a hand through his silvery hair.</p><p>“Figuring yourself out? Or me?” </p><p>Draco leaned into his touch and grinned, shrugging.</p><p>“Both.”</p><p>There was significantly less talking after that. Instead, there was moans, and sweat, and heavy breathing as they discovered each other in a whole new way, and Harry wondered faintly if it was possible to die from bliss when he was buried deep inside Draco, hips moving in a steady rhythm that almost had him seeing stars. They’d gone slowly, figuring out what they were doing along the way, making sure they were both well prepared. Draco’s grey eyes were dark in the dimly lit bedroom, and he smiled at him, lovingly almost, and Harry couldn’t help leaning down and kissing him deeply, affectionately. They were well lined up that way, pressed close together, and Harry had reached down to guide himself inside, making Draco gasp a little at the initial burn. </p><p>He reached around Draco’s torso, now, making him arch a little so he could put his forearms under his back, and he pressed them as close together as it was physically possible. Draco’s arms came around him too, wrapping him into a tight embrace. It felt even more intimate that way, holding onto each other like that while Harry was slowly pushing in and out of Draco, both of them moaning into each other’s necks. When he felt his arms go numb after a while, he urged Draco to arch his back again so Harry could use his hands to intertwine their fingers instead, resting them on each side of Draco’s head </p><p>He smiled down at him, their faces aligned again, and Draco smiled back, tongue poking out between his teeth in an absurdly cute way, so completely out of line with everything he’d ever associated with the blond Slytherin. </p><p>The fluttering was back beneath his ribcage, and Harry leaned down to kiss Draco, completely losing himself in his senses. He could feel Draco everywhere, and it was all he needed right then, all he wanted. </p><p>After, when they were both spent and exhausted, Harry curled up in Draco’s arms, skin to skin, one hand softly stroking the scarred skin on Draco’s back. </p><p>“You ever expect this?” Harry asked sleepily. </p><p>“Expected? Never. Wished? Always,” Draco admitted, hand gently combing through Harry’s hair. Harry chuckled.</p><p>“Always? Even when you made half the school wear POTTER STINKS badges?” </p><p>“<em>Especially </em> then. I just wanted your attention. And maybe I was envious, too. At least up until I saw the dragons. Big turn off on that front.” </p><p>“Weird way to get my attention. I mean, it did work. But then, you always kinda had my attention. As well as my fury and my general dislike, I suppose.” </p><p>“You say that as if I didn’t put valiant effort into making you see me. Obviously I would never have admitted it. I’m hesitant even now. But it’s true regardless.” </p><p>Harry snorted. </p><p>“Meanwhile my friends were telling me I was obsessed with you.” </p><p>Draco turned his head to brush his lips over Harry’s forehead.</p><p>“You should ask Blaise about my antics in that regard. He’s always been happily vocal about it.” </p><p>Harry laughed, his eyelids feeling blissfully heavy now.</p><p>“Maybe I will.” </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Attending his mother’s trial was hard. Draco hated seeing her chained up and scrutinised, a far cry from the proud woman he’d once known her to be. She’d been put under house arrest at the manor after the battle of Hogwarts, the statements of several Order members as well as Harry Potter himself keeping her from Azkaban or an insignificantly more comfortable holding cell at the ministry. Draco had visited her regularly, but couldn’t bring himself to return to the manor permanently. It was tainted with pain and suffering now, it’s cold walls etched with the blood of the innumerable Muggles and Muggleborns that had lost their lives there. It wasn’t visible, but Draco <em> knew </em>it was there. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear their cries for mercy, their screams of pain.</p><p>So he’d all but moved into Potter’s house instead. He’d been hesitant at first, but Potter had insisted, knowing Draco didn’t really have anywhere else to stay, and Grimmauld Place was too big a house for one person anyway. The house elf Draco very faintly remembered from his early childhood visits to his grand aunt welcomed him with an air of excitement that almost startled Draco, and now he seemed to prefer him over his actual master, always asking <em> Young Master Black </em> if he was in need of anything even before he asked Potter. Potter didn’t seem to mind. He only told Kreacher off when he spat bile about Muggleborns or went on about the importance of blood purity. It was, admittedly, quite hilarious.</p><p>Draco spent a lot of time tucked away in his room, though, reading or listening to music on the CD player Potter had bought him, while Potter was off attending Death Eater trials and trying to restore some sense of normality in the Wizarding world. </p><p>At night, they usually shared a bed, snuggled up together and ready to comfort each other through all of the many nightmares they suffered between the two of them. Draco wasn’t well, a lot of the time, still haunted by violent flashbacks, panic attacks, and a general feeling of uneasiness that just wouldn’t go away some days. Other days were better. And then there were days when he could barely muster up the energy to get out of bed at all. Potter seemed to do better than him in a lot of ways, but his nightmares were often more violent than Draco’s, leaving him screaming and crying, and sometimes he would zoom out in the middle of a conversation or while they were watching what Draco had found out were films or <em> teevee </em> shows, just staring off into space, and Draco often had to use physical measures to get him back to reality. Kisses, mostly. Draco had asked Harry what he could do to help after it happened the first time, and Harry had said “Just kiss me. Strangely, your lips tend to ground me just as much as they make me feel like I can fly.” Draco had gagged, but complied. There were loads of kisses. Draco didn’t think there was any surface in the house they hadn’t snogged against at least once in the two months since the end of the war. They were all struggling, still, but Hermione said it was okay, that it was normal; that they had time to heal now. </p><p> </p><p>Harry was testifying in favour of his mother. She had helped him fake his death in the Forbidden Forest, he said. She’d told Voldemort he was dead when he hadn’t been, only wanting to know whether Draco was okay in return. Molly Weasley was speaking for her, too, explaining how she’d killed her own Death Eater sister to protect not only Draco, but also her daughter Ginny and Harry Potter himself. </p><p>They asked Draco to testify, much to his surprise, and he told them about the sacrifices his mother had made to ensure his safety. </p><p>In the end, she was given three months of house arrest without her wand. After that, she would be a free woman again. It was good news. </p><p> </p><p>Lucius’s trial was even harder for Draco. Not because he had any sympathy left for the man in the face of the punishment he was undoubtedly going to receive. No, Draco had difficulty even looking at him now, knowing what he’d done to him, to his mother. The horrors he’d subjected them to. How he had cowered at the feet of a madman, too cowardly to stand up to his own humiliation. He’d been wrong about so many things. </p><p>Draco gripped Harry’s hand so tightly, his knuckles turned white when Lucius was led into the court, but Harry didn’t complain. His father had lost a lot of weight, his once so perfectly combed hair looked tangled and unwashed, dark circles making his face look ashen. The sight stirred something deep in Draco’s chest, but he pushed it away, gritting his teeth as Lucius looked around to meet his eyes. </p><p>“Draco!” he said weakly, and Draco was immediately taken back to that awful day of the battle, his father urging him to cross the chasm between the factions. He quickly averted his eyes, leaning against Harry’s shoulder instead. </p><p>“Draco, please!” </p><p>No one offered to testify on Lucius Malfoy’s behalf. Draco was asked, again, but he merely shook his head, frowning deeply and avoiding his father’s gaze. When it was time to define the charges, however, several people volunteered to talk about the torture Lucius had subjected them and others to, the crimes he’d committed in the name of the Dark Lord, and his attempts of bribery. Draco refused to give a statement, knowing he could tell them a long story about his father’s crimes, but also knowing he could not bare living through those horrors again while the whole Wizengamot was listening. </p><p>“It’s okay, Draco. You don’t have to,” Harry said quietly, “They have enough to put him away for a very long time.” </p><p>It was a relief and a burden both at the same time. That small flame of love he had left for his father was begging him to do something, to help this man who’d taught him to fly a broom, who’d read to him when he was small. It had been propaganda on blood purity, of course, but those moments had still meant something to Draco. It wasn’t enough to make him speak up, though. He knew Lucius had to pay for his mistakes, and as little as he could live with knowing his refusal to speak up was a part of the reason he was being sent to Azkaban for a big part of his remaining life, he could live even less with letting him roam freely. </p><p>So Lucius was sentenced to 20 years in Azkaban. And that was that. </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>They would all take a year off before returning to Hogwarts and retaking their 7th year so they could all get their NEWTS. McGonagall said the castle needed that time to recover and to heal, to be rebuilt, and so did the rest of them. She was probably right. When Draco lay in bed at night, he felt it; the way he was broken, frantically searching for the floating bits and pieces to glue them back together. He would need help, he knew, even if his old pride vehemently spoke up against it. Hermione had suggested a mind healer, and he was beginning to think it wasn’t an entirely bad idea. </p><p>Even three months later, some days it was still hard to get out of bed, days when he was hit by grief, when he wondered about the point of everything, when he couldn’t find it in him to care, when nothing in life seemed worthwhile. Other days he still felt the fear pressing down on his chest, he remembered all the pain, all the people he’d watched die, his father losing his marbles in Azkaban, and the panic attacks always hit him like the bloody Hogwarts Express. It was hard to pull himself out of those when he was alone, but he knew he would have to learn to cope with them. He hadn’t survived a war just to succumb to his own demons in the end. </p><p> </p><p>Potter had decided to use the year off to travel. He needed to get away from Wizarding Britain for awhile, he’d said, away from the constant scrutiny and worship, to clear his own head and start healing; to figure out what he wanted, who he wanted to be now. Draco understood. He’d seen what it was like for him; spending nearly two months in close proximity with each other while there was a war going on and then living together for three months made him feel like he knew Potter inside and out now. He’d found assumptions he’d had about him proven wrong just as much as he’d found some of them proven right. Potter didn’t like the limelight and the attention like Draco had once thought he did. But he was just as reckless, the hero complex even bigger than Draco had always known it to be. He was messy, too, a downright slob when left to his own devices, which didn’t come as a surprise to Draco. They’d fought about haphazardly discarded socks and underpants more than Draco could count in their few months of sharing a living space. It was fine, though, because where Potter was too messy, Draco was too neat. And there was loads they had yet to learn about each other, especially now that they both had time to heal. </p><p> </p><p>“Come with me,” Potter said the night before he was scheduled to take a portkey to Paris. They were sprawled across their shared bed at Grimmauld Place, feeling exhausted and spent after several rounds of Goodbye-sex. </p><p>“You know I can’t, you twat. Ministry orders, remember? No one bearing a Dark Mark is allowed to leave the country for at least a year.”</p><p>“I’m sure I could persuade them somehow,” the git said, “You’re a war hero, Draco. You were freed of all charges. I’m sure they would make an exception.” </p><p>Draco shook his head.</p><p>“I don’t <em> want </em> to be an exception. I still deserve the consequences of my misjudgments. Nevermind the press it would produce. That picture was bad enough, was it not?” </p><p>A few weeks prior, <em>The</em> <em>Prophet</em> had released a picture of the two of them standing in the middle of rubble and debris, covered in dirt and blood, wrapped around each other, kissing like they were each other’s oxygen. It had been a private moment shortly after the battle. They had yet to find out who had taken the picture. It would have been beautiful too, despite the blood and dirt, had it not been sold to the press. Safe to say, the headline had been huge.</p><p> </p><p>SAVIOUR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD SPOTTED KISSING DEATH EATER ON THE BATTLEFIELD </p><p> </p><p>Also safe to say, not everyone had been pleased with the discovery of their involvement. There had been a lot of angry howlers sent his way, as well as dirty looks directed at him when he dared walking on Wizarding grounds. There’d been whispers about him bewitching Harry to escape punishment; angry words about him defiling their precious Golden Boy, who’d been supposed to marry a pretty witch and produce offspring the entirety of Wizarding Britain could fawn over. Of course it had to be Draco’s fault that Potter suddenly liked men. </p><p>“I don’t care about the press, Draco. You know that,” Potter said, lips moving against Draco’s neck as he buried his face there. </p><p>“I know you don’t, but it’s going to be difficult for me to find any sort of standing in the Wizarding World as it is with my family name, the lot of them detesting me for defiling their bloody saviour and getting all the exceptions they accused me of using you for won’t help.” </p><p>Potter grunted, and Draco knew to read it as reluctant acceptance of Draco’s arguments. He knew he was right. </p><p>“I’m going to miss you,” the git said and propped himself up with his elbows on either side of Draco’s face. Draco felt heat rising to his cheeks. They still hadn’t talked about any aspect of their relationship - if one could call it that. It had been too scary to dip into that pool of feelings during the war, too raw and uncertain, and after the final battle they’d had other things on their minds. There simply hadn’t been enough time between the Death Eater trials, funerals, grief, their individual struggles, and trying to navigate life now that the war was over. </p><p>But looking up in Harry’s green eyes now, Draco knew it with a clarity that terrified him almost as much as wars and Dark Lords did. </p><p>He <em> loved </em> him. </p><p>The stupid, <em> horrible </em> git with messy hair and no manners, a non-existent sense for fashion and cheap glasses that somehow always looked askew or dirty or both. </p><p>He <em> loved </em> him. </p><p>“I… I think I might have horrifyingly strong feelings of affection for you,” he blurted out. And what <em> the fuck </em> did he just say? </p><p>Heat rose to his cheeks as he watched Harry’s eyes widen, as his mouth dropped open just an inch. He hadn’t meant to say it, not now, and <em> certainly </em> not like that. Potter was leaving first thing in the morning, for Merlin’s sake!  </p><p>Then Potter laughed fondly, and damn him. Draco <em> was </em> being serious here.</p><p>“Oh, come on, Potter. It means <em> I… love you</em>,” he added, still, voice low. In for a Sickle, in for a Galleon. It had been a slow discovery over the past year, he supposed. He’d always known that there was a part of him hopelessly crushing on Potter when they were growing up. He wasn’t <em> stupid</em>, thank you very much. He’d spent enough wank sessions picturing the bespectacled git. But <em> love</em>, that was something else entirely, wasn’t it? </p><p>“Draco…” Harry said softly as he leaned down to capture Draco’s lips with his own. “Draco, Draco, Draco.”</p><p>He started placing soft kisses all over Draco’s face, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his chin, his forehead. But he didn’t say it back. It hurt Draco, deep down, and he felt a piece of his heart crack, but he tried to understand. He’d been the bully, the arsehole growing up. He couldn’t expect Potter to love him back just because Draco… <em> loved </em> him. </p><p>“No, no, no,” Potter said with a smile, “Don’t even think that.”</p><p>“I beg you pardon?” Draco asked, baffled. He was sure his Occlumency was well in place, thank you very much. There was no way Potter could’ve heard his thoughts. </p><p>“I know you, Draco. You think I don’t return your feelings because I didn’t say it back.” </p><p>Draco bit his lip and avoided Harry’s eyes. He didn’t have to put it quite so bluntly. </p><p>“It’s not that, Draco. I just need time. I’m leaving tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to say it and then leave you for 6 months. You and I… we’ve only ever known the war, together, and then the aftermath of a war. And before that it was schoolyard squabbles and fist fights. I have an idea how I feel about you, or… how I <em> could </em> feel, I suppose. But I just need some time to myself. Figure out how to be myself first.” </p><p>Draco got that; he did. And he knew it was for the best. That didn’t mean his heart didn’t still clench painfully in his chest, though. This was <em> Harry Potter</em>. The boy he’d been obsessed with since he’d been eleven years old. Letting him go again now was one of the hardest things he would ever have to do, he knew. But he couldn’t make this harder on Harry than it already was. So he took a deep breath, composing himself like his father had taught him when he could barely even walk or talk. </p><p>“That was surprisingly eloquent, Potter. Didn’t think you had it in you,” he said in his taunting schoolboy voice. It came out much, much fonder than he’d intended, though. </p><p>“Twat.” Potter whacked his arm and poked his side, making Draco squirm. They got carried away into a tickling match for awhile, laughing until they were both breathless, and then they had sex again, and Draco nearly cried when he came, holding onto Harry like he was just a dream that would fade once Draco opened his eyes. </p><p>“I’ll write,” Potter said when they were tangled up under the thin sheets, freshly showered and utterly exhausted. It was hot in London, the warm August air making the room feel stuffy despite the open window. “I promise.” </p><p>“You better, Potter,” Draco mumbled against his neck, breathing him in and wondering faintly and with a small dose of heartache if it was last time he’d get to be this close to Harry. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. and i know you don't belong to anyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhh!! Hello darlings. We're sloooowly getting to the end. No spoilers, but I only accept happy ends, so there is that. First we need to go through some more relationship shenanigans, though. </p><p>Fun fact: I actually wrote the letter parts of this chapter quite early on when I was stuck in a writing block. And I've since rewritten them a few times, but for the most part they're still born of that. <br/>Personally I'm a little bit of a sucker for a good epistolary so I usually enjoy putting letters and text messages in my stories a lot. I just think it's an interesting perspective. Anyway! I hope you enjoy this chaotic but fun penultimate chapter. </p><p>Chapter title taken from "Favorite Place" by All Time Low.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Potter did write. He sent Draco an owl with a letter and a postcard from every place he visited, his messy scrawl waxing poetic in a way Draco had never thought he had in him. Which, obviously, was in no way meant to be a serious assessment of Potter’s chaotic letters. And Draco wrote back, surprising himself with how easy it came to him to be slightly less of a sarcastic bastard on a piece of parchment. He’d never been much of a writer before. But a long time ago now, he’d begrudgingly accepted that there was little he wouldn’t do for Potter.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> it’s only been 2 days but I do miss you.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Paris is great, though it seems the French are just as obsessed with me as the British magical folk.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I already received 3 marriage proposals. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Naturally I declined all of them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Bit annoying, though. I’m not that special.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Stop trying to be humble, you can’t fool me. Marriage proposals? You’re absolutely thriving on that shit, cut the crap.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m still in Paris. Five new marriage proposals. Had to tell them all that I am already quite gone on a blond git I know back home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I got a tattoo, though! A phoenix. Seemed fitting.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I cannot believe you would tease me like that. A tattoo? And I won’t be able to see it for another 6 months? Unbelievable.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Anyway. You’ll be pleased to know Hermione has been showing me around Muggle London. We went to a cinema! Marvelous things, those films. Unfathomable that they are a Muggle invention. I wish I'd had them during all those boring summers at the manor growing up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione helped me order a ”VHS player” afterwards, so I can watch them over the telly at home. I also bought a "discman" (like yours) so I can listen to music outside. Have you ever had a fizzy drink named Sprite? Such rare pleasure on my tongue. ;)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> (Hermione taught me all about “smilies”, too! Muggles really come up with the most ridiculous things that - weirdly - make sense.)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> are you actually becoming a Muggle-lover while I’m gone? Pureblood elitist Draco Malfoy, indulging in Muggle culture. Scandalous! You should try Coke while you’re at it. Also ask Hermione about Skittles. I love those things.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I just arrived in Berlin this morning. The Germans (thankfully) seem a bit less enthusiastic to marry me. Still had one bloke go down on his knees right in the middle of a restaurant, though. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You would’ve made a whole scene, I’m sure. It was very improper.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I think you underestimate my temper. I might forget my proper upbringing when faced with one of your admirers. The mind healer I’m seeing did say I seem like the jealous type. She’s not wrong.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: I tried your suggestions. Salazar, I cannot believe these delicious wonders have been kept from me all my life. Hermione said I’m indulging in too many Muggle sweets but it’s okay because I’m too skinny anyway? She also said something about being extra thorough with my dental hygiene spells. I have no idea what she’s on about but she’s rarely wrong about anything, so I’m listening to her. My teeth will remain impeccable.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco,  </em>
</p><p><em> there’s no need for you to be jealous, </em> <span class="u"> <em> my love </em> </span> <em> <span class="u">.</span> They got nothing on you. You got my virginity, after all.  </em></p><p>
  <em> You’re finally seeing a mind healer? I’m glad to hear that. How’s that going?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: You ARE on the skinnier side, she’s not wrong. You can expect more speeches about dental hygiene from Hermione. Her parents are dentists, so she’s basically an expert. And you know how she is about things she thinks she’s an expert in.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m touched you view your virginity as a precious gift you left in my care. Stop talking about sex, though. My hand is all I have right now. You’re who-knows-where and I’m a social pariah, no one else wants to touch my dick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m seeing two, actually. One at St. Mungo's, and a Muggle “therapist”. Hermione made me see both of them. She can be very insistent. And surprisingly, I find it quite helpful to talk to someone who doesn’t have any prejudices about me or my family. Don’t tell her I wrote that. She would never let me hear the end of it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I get it now. Why you kept Hermione around. She’s wonderful. Infuriatingly smart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> YOU’RE SEEING A MUGGLE THERAPIST?? Because HERMIONE said so? Who are you and what have you done to Draco Malfoy???  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’re not a social pariah, Draco. You’re a war hero, despite everything you were taught. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you anyway.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: Stop making me jealous.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.S.: It’s okay if you have sex with someone. I know we aren’t exclusive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.S.S.: But I’m still jealous.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> my mother said that she knew I had an odd fascination with you since first year. My first instinct was to tell her off, because clearly we were enemies in school. But I think she’s right. You have always been on my mind. Sometimes I would ask father about you, long before we went to Hogwarts. When I heard that we would be attending in the same year, I wished to be your friend so badly. I had it all planned out. How I would approach you on your first day at Hogwarts. It didn’t quite work out, though, as you’re well aware.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I used to talk about you all the time. A lot of it was complaining, mind you, but even father was irked by it. He used to scold me for continuously telling him the same things about you. It’s like I’ve always been hyper-aware of you. That’s the word my Muggle therapist uses. She also says I might have lashed out at you because I felt rejected. I wished to be your friend so badly and I wasn’t used to rejection. It’s no excuse. I was an awfully spoiled brat growing up.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I guess it just surprised me that other people saw more behind our schoolboy rivalry. I just thought you were insufferable. I mean you WERE an insufferable git. Still are. Not warranting the way I treated you, though.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S:. Initially, I didn’t plan on sending you this. It was just something my therapist suggested writing as an exercise of sorts. (Horribly pathetic, I know, but she insisted.) But then she talked about communication and honesty and I thought it was something you might like to read.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.S.: Please don’t expect more cheesy ramblings of mine in the future. </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> thanks for your love letter. I made sure to gush about you to everyone I met today. I’m in Rome now. Bella Italia. It is quite bella. Six proposals so far! I think this might be a new record.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I got another tattoo on my last day in Berlin. Just two small words a German witch named Lena taught me while I was there: fernweh and heimweh. It’s the opposite of feeling homesick and, well, feeling homesick. Only that it translates more to “far ache” and “home ache” which is fitting, isn’t it? It’s more of an ache than an actual sickness. I’m extremely familiar with both, though. I always kind of felt them both at the same time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: You were always on my mind, too. Usually attached to a string of insults and unfavourable attributes, but you were there.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I am suffering from a severe case of Potterweh. The Germans are on to something.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I went to make an appointment with a Muggle tattoo artist with Hermione today. All your talk about tattoos made me think more about the mark. I thought about trying to cover it up with a tattoo, but Hermione said it’s likely the ink would just be swallowed up by the lingering magic of the mark. She’s probably right. So I decided to leave it on show but embed it into a bigger picture. There you got another cheesy metaphor for my life. I disgust myself constantly these days and it’s all your fault.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> does that mean I’m returning to you sporting a full tattoo sleeve? Damn. That’s hot.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Today an Italian witch came up to me in the middle on the street and kissed me right there. It was completely awkward. Don’t get me wrong, she was pretty and all, but I don’t really appreciate strangers kissing me in the middle of the street. Afterwards she asked me if I would take her, since she’s obviously so much better than “that Death Eater”. I told her to kindly fuck off. People are insane. I miss you, Draco.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: Potterweh? Damn, Draco. That’s too cheesy even for you. I gagged.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione explained to me what a tattoo sleeve is. It seems that is exactly what I had in mind. The Muggle tattoo artist said he thought my Dark Mark was “sick” but that I must’ve had a really bad artist for it to scar so much. I suppose he wasn’t wrong. The Dark Lord wasn’t much of an artist, was he? Anyway, the Muggle artist didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t have any prejudices about me or the mark either. It was rather... nice.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  P.S.: Stop making me jealous, you git. I don’t want to feel like I need to hunt down some Italian witch who laid her filthy hands on you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m in Budapest. Two proposals so far. I have to admit, it was kind of fun at first, but it’s getting exhausting now. I always feel so bad for rejecting them.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I went to see a Muggle band play in a tiny cellar last night. That was cool. I think their guitarist flirted with me. I’m not sure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The thing is, I know we aren’t exclusive right now, but I still feel like I’m cheating on you when I flirt back. So I never know what to do.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - H.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> P.S.: new tattoo I got in Italy: a doe, like my mum’s Patronus. It’s on my back and quite big, but I’m thinking of adding more.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Potter, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> sorry for the delay. I did get your howler, too, but I was sort of busy learning to cast a Patronus. Hermione said I needed to be free of any possible distractions, so she intercepted my owls. Little minx, that one. I never managed to conjure one before, though, nevermind a corporeal one. It doesn’t really work that well when you’ve been in close contact with dark magic for so long, I suppose. But Ginny and Hermione trained with me for the last two weeks, and it was hard work, but I finally succeeded last night.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> So.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s a stag.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yes.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ha-fucking-ha. It pains me greatly to admit it. It’s like Severus and your mother. Sickening. Hermione says its antlers are formed differently than yours’, though. I’m not sure what to make of that. I’m attaching a drawing I did of it.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I will not be offended if you flirt with other people, by the way. Or have sex with them. This is your year off and I’m most certainly not going to sit here like a housewife waiting around for you and expecting you to be faithful. Live your life, Potter. Hell if I’m going to be the one holding you back. We are not married, or even together, after all.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I was so worried about you!! Warn a man next time, will you? Not even Hermione would answer any of my letters or calls. I thought maybe you were all swallowed up by an earthquake or turned into zombies.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A stag? Draco… fuck, come on. I wanted to do this in person. I’m not gonna write it down.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m taking your drawing to a tattoo artist tomorrow. It’s beautiful. I never knew you could draw so well. That little love note you sent me in third year didn’t really do much to give it away. It was very elaborate, though. A lot of work put in to antagonise your biggest enemy. ;)  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Love, H.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Harry, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> you are getting my drawing tattooed? I don’t know what to say. I was petrified you would run for the hills at such a… committed display of affection. It is a bit much, isn’t it? Having the same Patronus. Feels sort of pathetic. Ginny laughed herself into next week, anyway. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Please don’t let this keep you from sleeping with other people. If it helps, I am trying to get past the social pariah thing, but I’m afraid I would have to venture out into the Muggle world to find someone willing. No matter what you say, all the Wizarding world sees is the Dark Mark and the crimes of my father.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> - D.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Draco,  </em>
</p><p><em>it’s </em> not <em> pathetic. You think the love Snape had for my mum was pathetic? He was a bastard for bullying me because he couldn’t stand my dad, but loving my mum? That might have been his biggest strength. </em></p><p>
  <em> The tattoo turned out beautifully, by the way. I got it on the side of my ribcage. Hermione’s right, the antlers are different on yours. I’m sure there is Patronus lore out there that could provide points of analysis on this particular fact.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’m in Athens now, by the way. Greece is beautiful, even though they all seem very keen on having big greek weddings with me. I got EIGHT proposals in a day. When did the Wizarding world get so globalised anyway? Why do they all know who I am?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> H.  </em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> ++ </em>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Hello Potter,</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Hermione gave me this Muggle device to communicate with you. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>She says you got one too? A mobile. Curious things. - D. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>+</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>remind me to give mione an extra big hug when i see her. finally a direct way to annoy you all day. </b>
</p><p>+</p><p>
  <b> <em>I take it this isn’t supposed to be as formal as letters? You didn’t sign your message, anyway. You are Harry Potter, right? </em> </b>
</p><p>+</p><p>
  <b>yes I am, draco. and yeah you just type what you would say anyways</b>
</p><p>+ </p><p>
  <b> <em>Hermione said you can also talk through this thing. Can you make it so we can talk? I need to talk to you. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>++</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Draco,” Harry said cheerily when Draco managed to take his call at the fourth attempt. </p><p>“Potter! I can hear you! Can you hear me?” </p><p>Harry chuckled. </p><p>“Yes. That’s what phones were made for, originally. So Muggles could talk to each other across long distances.” </p><p>“This is much more convenient than fire calls. How did they come up with this? How does it even <em> work </em>without magic?”</p><p>Harry shrugged, even though Draco couldn’t see him.</p><p>“Something to do with invisible waves? I don’t know, I went to Hogwarts before I got that far in Muggle school. Hermione would know, though.” </p><p>“Alright. I’ll ask her,” Draco said a bit sheepishly. There was a pause. Then, at the same time:</p><p>“So, how have you been?”</p><p>“I need to talk to you.” </p><p>Harry chuckled.</p><p>“So you’ve said. What’s up?” </p><p>“Good <em> grief</em>, it’s so good to hear your voice, even though it sounds kind of strange through this contraption…” Draco said, trailing off, “I— I did something, and I know you said it was okay but… I still feel bad about it so I thought you should know…” </p><p>Harry frowned. He had idea where this was going and something in the pit of his stomach clenched at the thought. </p><p>“What is it, Draco?” </p><p>There was a deep intake of breath audible through the phone.</p><p>“I slept with Blaise. I didn’t mean to, I <em> swear </em>, but he and Pansy just broke up and we were drinking, and I felt so lonely and kind of miserable so it just happened and—” The word’s spilled from Draco’s mouth in a seemingly endless waterfall, and his breathing became quicker as he spoke. Well, fuck. </p><p>“Draco…”</p><p>“I’m sorry—”</p><p>“Draco, it’s <em> fine</em>. I told you, it’s fine.” </p><p>“I just feel so… <em> horrible</em>. First I tell you about my frankly ridiculous Patronus and then I go and fuck someone I’ve known since I was 5 years old just because I was drunk and lonely… and you’ve only been gone for two months…” </p><p>“One doesn’t take away from the other, Draco. Sex doesn’t equal love. Just like love doesn’t equal sex. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous, but… you and I have always been a bit different, Draco.”</p><p>Harry took a deep breath, trying to stomp out the flames of jealousy burning in his chest. He had no right to be jealous, he knew. He’d been the one who told Draco he needed time, that they shouldn’t just jump headfirst into a relationship born in a war. And he knew it was the right thing to do; with their history, they needed to be sure, because if nothing was certain, one thing was: Things between him and Draco had always been and would always be intense in a way he had trouble comprehending. They couldn’t be casual about each other, even if they tried. So he knew if they both committed to this love thing, it would be all or nothing. And that meant it could also leave them both with hearts broken beyond repair if it didn’t work out. There was so much at stake. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Draco didn’t sound convinced. </p><p>“Yes. What if I told you I slept with someone, too?” </p><p>A sharp intake of breath. Then silence for several painful moments.</p><p>“Did you?”</p><p>“No. But I might. Is that okay?” </p><p>Another pause.</p><p>“Yeah. I told you, I won’t be the one holding you back, Potter. I’m not your husband, not even your boyfriend. I just… Merlin, this is <em> horrible</em>. I wanted to be honest with you.” </p><p>Harry knew this was hard for Draco, maybe harder than it was for him. Draco had always been so reserved, so careful about opening up to anyone, especially Harry. So now that he’d bared his heart to him, Draco was already a step further down the line; his stakes were higher than Harry’s. </p><p>“I might not, you know?” he said. “I just didn’t want us to jump into something right out of a war, right out of school. You’re too important to me, Draco.”</p><p>Draco hummed.</p><p>“I suppose that was quite sensible of you, given our history. My one night engagement with Blaise was certainly… <em> enlightening</em>, to say the least.”</p><p>Harry could all but hear the frown through the phone. He could picture it perfectly; Draco’s wrinkled nose, chin pointed, eyes narrowed ever so slightly. </p><p>He gave a soft laugh, just because it felt appropriate; to add some lightheartedness to their conversation that was way less serious than the two of them made it seem. But that had always been their thing, hadn’t it? Eccentrics and drama, in animosity and love, it seemed. </p><p>“I’m glad you told me,” Harry said softly. </p><p>“I’m glad I told you. I feel much better now,” Draco said with a laugh. “If it helps, though, you’re much better in bed. Even your sloppy kissing is better, don’t ask me why. I guess it’s part of that <em> Harry Potter </em> thing: no talents, but still winning at everything.” </p><p>Harry gasped, feigning outrage. </p><p>“Oi! My kissing isn’t sloppy,” he protested. </p><p>Draco snorted.</p><p>“If you say so. I’m certain you have plenty of experience with your own kissing.”</p><p>“No one else ever complained!”</p><p>The git had the audacity to snort again. </p><p>“Yeah, because you kissed so many people before.” </p><p>“How would you know how many people I have kissed?” </p><p>“Because you’re Harry Potter and the whole school would’ve known about it before you even got your tongue back inside your own mouth.” </p><p>Well. Harry couldn’t really argue with that. </p><p>“Alright. You win this round, but I will prove you wrong.”</p><p>Draco chuckled. </p><p>“I’m looking forward to it, Potty.” </p><p> </p><p>That night, Harry went on a kissing rampage. He found a Muggle dance tavern that played classical greek melodies mixed with contemporary tunes, got drunk on Ouzo, and snogged a whole lot of strangers while dancing like someone who had absolutely no control over his limbs. Which he was, so it was fine. The burn of the Ouzo made him lose all inhibitions he’d previously had. He kissed a girl with dark locks first, bought her a drink, then asked her if she thought his kissing was sloppy. She looked taken aback, but smiled at him and patted his cheek. </p><p>“Sloppy? Yeah. Little.” </p><p>Harry faintly wondered if she even knew what sloppy meant. His kissing was <em> not </em> sloppy. </p><p>Next he picked a guy that looked as little like Draco as possible. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. The man stared at him a bit curiously, but kissed him anyway. When Harry asked, he said “Είσαι όμορφο, βρετανικό αγόρι!”* and hell if Harry knew what that meant. Judging by the look in his eyes, Harry counted it as a win, though. </p><p>For his third kiss that night, Harry was significantly more drunk. </p><p>“Can I kiss you?” he asked a blond guy with a light sun tan. He wasn’t as silvery blond as Draco, and his eyes weren’t as grey, but he was pretty enough. “See, my boyfriend and I-- well, he’s not actually my boyfriend. We’re sort of… getting there. I don’t know. Anyway, we have this bet, because he thinks my kissing is sloppy, and I want to prove him wrong.”</p><p>“And where is this boyfriend?” the man asked with a thick, german accent. </p><p>“In London.”</p><p>“Alright.” The German kissed him, <em> sloppily</em>, and grinned when he pulled back. </p><p>“Not so sloppy,” he said. <em> Yeah</em>, Harry thought, <em> because you out-slopped me.  </em></p><p>Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, Harry ordered more liquor and pulled out his phone. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>2 / 3  people think my kissing isn’t sloppy (so far)</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Draco didn’t reply immediately, so Harry sipped his Ouzo and was just about to set out for a rather pretty ginger girl on the edge of the dance floor, when his mobile chimed. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>What the fuck are you doing, Potter?</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b>proving that my kissing isn’t sloppy</b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>by kissing amok? </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b>it’s not like i have to force anyone.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>i just hope i’m not kissing like that german tosser… merlin, that was a lot of saliva </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I really don’t even want to know.</em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b>i’ll keep u updated </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Please don’t. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>At the end of the night, Harry had kissed at least ten people, and only two of them thought he was a sloppy kisser. He considered that a win on all accounts when he stumbled out of the tavern, considerably drunk and semi-well snogged. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>only 2/10 think im a sloppy kisser</b>
</p><p>
  <b>i win</b>
</p><p>
  <b>ur wrong </b>
</p><p>+</p><p>
  <b> <em>I hardly think drunk people in a nightclub, or wherever it is that you are, are fair judges on that matter. </em></b>
</p><p>
  <b><em>I imagine sweaty drunks would kiss a boggart and think it was a good kiss. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b>…… my kissing isn’t sloppy</b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>If you insist. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b>u liked it well enough anyway</b>
</p><p>
  <b>+</b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>I never claimed that I didn’t. In fact, I said I enjoyed your kisses significantly more than Blaise’s. </em> </b>
</p><p>+</p><p>
  <b>i miss you draco</b>
</p><p>+</p><p>
  <b> <em>I miss you too, Harry. </em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>Naturally, Draco complained rather excessively about Potter’s escapades when he met Ginny and Hermione for dinner in a Muggle restaurant that week. They’d made sure to take him out at least once a week since Potter had left, knowing he would otherwise only see his mind healers, and his mother on Sundays. </p><p>“Why would he just go and kiss a bunch of strangers?” he asked, nose wrinkled, “It’s <em> revolting</em>, absolutely disgusting. He must’ve switched bodily fluids with at least ten people in a single night!” </p><p>Hermione merely smiled knowingly, though at least she had the decency to look mildly disgusted as well, and Ginny laughed heartily, patting Draco’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’re absolutely adorable when you’re jealous.” </p><p>“I’m not. <em> Jealous</em>. I merely think it’s rather uncouth, not to mention unsanitary. To kiss that many people.”</p><p>Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. </p><p>“You kind of brought that upon yourself, Draco. You know how Harry is. You give him a challenge, he accepts it. <em> Especially </em> if it’s coming from you. It’s always been like that between the two of you.”</p><p>Draco sipped at his cider, pouting.</p><p>“It wasn’t a <em> challenge</em>! I merely said he was a sloppy kisser.”</p><p>Ginny seemed to find great joy in his misery, judging by the way she held onto the edge of the table to support herself while she laughed. </p><p>“After you told him you let Zabini in your pants. So not only did you make him jealous - no matter what he says, I know him - you also poked at his insecurities AND made him feel like he needed to catch up to you in some way. Yeah, you definitely brought this upon yourself,” she said. Draco glared at her glumly. </p><p>“I said he was a better kisser than Blaise,” he insisted, only making Ginny laugh harder. </p><p>“Is he really?” </p><p>Draco sighed dramatically.</p><p>“Well, not by technique, necessarily. But… he’s <em> Harry Potter</em>, isn’t he?” </p><p>Now Hermione burst into laughter too, and Draco decided he hated them both. </p><p>“What kind of an argument is that?” she asked, “<em>He’s Harry Potter</em>?” </p><p>“I just meant I still prefer kissing him,” Draco muttered. This was horrible.  “Can we stop talking about this?” </p><p>“Because you love him. Duh,” Ginny said as if he was a bit slow in the head. “Nothing quite compares to kissing people you have feelings for.” </p><p>Draco felt himself blush, cheeks heating as he regretted ever bringing the topic up at all. He should’ve known better, really, than discussing his horrendous love life with Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger of all people. Ginny had always been too invested in his relationship with Potter anyway. </p><p>“I don’t understand why you two can’t just… be together,” Hermione mused, “It’s clear you both love each other. Haven’t you suffered enough?”</p><p>Draco raised his eyebrows and glared at her, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms in front of his chest.</p><p>“Oh, you mean like you and Weasley?” </p><p>“That’s… <em> complicated</em>,” Hermione said, a faint tint of pink rising to her cheeks. Draco scoffed. </p><p>“Well, so is this. If you think I wouldn’t like to just fly off into the sunset with Potter, you’re gravely mistaken. But he doesn’t want to, and whether I like it or not, he made some fair points about it. Which are, if I remember correctly, quite similar to your reasons for not playing house with Weasley yet.” </p><p>Hermione sighed and looked at him sympathetically as she let her thumb brush idly against her wine glass. </p><p>“Alright, alright. Point taken. Anyway.” </p><p>She took a big sip from her wine. Draco took that as a cue for her finally changing the topic. “How was your therapy session this morning?” </p><p>He groaned. If he hadn’t been taught impeccable table manners at a very young age, he might’ve just let his forehead drop to the smooth, dark wood of the table they were seated at. </p><p>“Horrendous,” he said instead, curling his lips. “She wanted to talk about my father.” </p><p>Hermione dug that sympathetic look back out that almost verged on pity, and Draco hated it. </p><p>“Oh. Well, that’s good though, isn’t it? It has to come up at some point.” </p><p>“Does it?” Draco avoided thinking about his father as much as he could, as his conflicted feelings about him tended to give him a headache. </p><p>“It’s all part of healing, Draco. Personally, I’m still struggling with the fact that my parents may never regain all of the memories I took from them. We all have our own emotional baggage to bear.” </p><p>“Some of us more than others, I presume,” Draco muttered. The Weasleys had been rather lucky, all surviving with minor injuries and the general trauma that still haunted them all. And Draco was happy for them, he thought, even though it hurt sometimes, seeing them all come together as a family when Molly Weasley invited him along. Draco wasn’t exactly selfless, and he was far from being above envy and bitterness. But Molly had shown him such sincere kindness since the war ended, Draco had eventually accepted it for what it was. The Weasleys had chosen the right side from the start, had never strayed in their judgment, and a healthy and intact family was their ultimate prize for it. The Malfoys, on the other hand, had chosen the wrong side; and they’d paid for it at length. He did, however, wonder faintly how the Potters fit into that theme. </p><p>“Yes, well, life is just like that, I suppose. It’s not always fair,” Hermione said thoughtfully. </p><p>Ginny had kept quiet for a long time now, so Draco almost jumped when she spoke up again. </p><p>“I don’t think it’s down to fair or unfair. Sometimes it’s just dumb luck and circumstance.”</p><p>Draco traced the dark lines of the wooden tabletop with his finger, biting his lower lip.</p><p>“It’s not unfair that my father is in Azkaban. He’s an awful bastard.”</p><p>“Draco…” Hermione started softly, “You don’t have to--” </p><p>Draco’s head snapped up. </p><p>“He <em> is</em>, though. And maybe I just need to learn to accept that. It’s not like I would want him around, now. I never want to speak to that man again in my life. I’m furious with him. For everything he put me and mother through. How he raised me to be bitter and envious. And yet I keep finding myself wondering what he would have to say about my… my <em> feelings </em> for Harry. Whether he would approve. It’s like no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get rid of him.” Merlin, this was horrible. Breaking down over his bastard of a father once in a day already seemed too much, twice was just pathetic. </p><p>Hermione and Ginny remained quiet, both looking at him with infuriating sympathy. He didn’t want sympathy! He wanted them to be as mad at him as they should very well be!</p><p>“All his horrible mistakes are going to haunt me for the rest of my life, aren’t they? The way his mistakes turned into my mistakes. I don’t understand how you two can even sit here with me, chatting like we’re old friends. I used to treat you both like the dirt under my shoes. I don’t deserve your sympathy.” Salazar, Draco had gone and opened a whole can of flubberworms now. His tone had turned venomous, and he faintly noticed some of the Muggles in the restaurant turning their heads towards his raised voice. </p><p>“You apologised for that. Several times now,” Hermione said calmly. </p><p>Ginny stared at him like he’d suddenly grown an extra head.</p><p>“We <em> are </em>friends, Draco. Stop being stupid.” </p><p>“Is that enough, though? Is it really?” Draco hissed.</p><p>“It is when you helped us win a war. You showed your true colours when it mattered. Why should I keep holding onto some grudge because you were an awful childhood bully who only repeated what his father taught him? You were a <em> child </em>. You really think you deserve having that hung over your head for the rest of your life? We can’t give you more than forgiveness, Draco, and we’ve forgiven you a long time ago.” Hermione almost looked upset now, and Draco swallowed hard. Deep down he knew she was right, and that it wasn’t fair to pin his own regrets on them. It wasn’t fair to doubt their judgment. </p><p>“She’s right, you know? You should listen to her, she’s quite smart,” Ginny said, bumping his shoulder. “Now stop being an annoying twat. We’re trying to have a fun night here, or are we not? I’d rather talk about Harry’s kissing escapades again.” </p><p>Draco attempted a smile and made an exaggerated gagging noise. </p><p>“Or we could talk about Hermione avoiding your brother,” he said, smile growing.</p><p>“Actually, yes,” Ginny agreed, turning to their friend, “What’s up with that anyway?” </p><p>Hermione took a big sip of her wine. </p><p>“Maybe I should reconsider this friendship thing yet…” </p><p>Draco laughed, relief flooding his bones when Hermione joined. </p><p>It was good, this. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*I'll admit I used google translator for this since I chickened out asking my greek friend about this. I didn't want to explain to her why I needed it haha, we're work friends so I was a bit... hesitant. Anyway.<br/>It should translate to "You are a pretty, British boy!"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. you're everything i love about the things i hate in me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Darliiiings, we have reached the final chapter. After this there is only the epilogue left, and I might just upload that later as well - or tomorrow. Will have to see. I hope that mayhaps I managed to give you a little something to look forward to every day. It would certainly mean a lot to me. Posting a chapter of this every day was almost as much fun as writing it in the first place. And also, this is the longest fic I have ever finished!! So a personal yay to me. </p><p>Anyway. I know some of you weren't quiiite so happy with a few aspects of the last chapter but I hope it'll all make sense to you. I always meant to make this a bit of a character study as well as a romance, and I am happy with the outcome. I just hope you are, too. I'm rambling so... time for a happy end, isn't it?</p><p> </p><p>Chapter title from "Favorite Place" by All Time Low. Probably the line this story was most inspired by.</p><p>AND big big shoutout to my friend Tay for correcting my mistakes and being the best cheer(lollypop)leader (lol) and also comforting me through all my many insecurities with her words of wisdom throughout this journey. ily sooo much &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Draco was exceptionally good at avoiding things that inconvenienced him. He was also rather good at skirting around uncomfortable conversations. His own conscience and the way his heart had kept clenching painfully when he thought about Potter had somehow made him face that one regardless of his levels of discomfort. Blaise and Pansy, however? </p><p>Draco might as well have died, that’s how much effort he put into avoiding them.</p><p>He hadn’t spoken to Pansy at all since the final battle. She’d tried to approach him afterwards, before she was taken away by the aurors, but Draco had merely averted his eyes and pretended she didn’t exist. She’d sent owls, too, but Draco had left them all unopened. </p><p>So really, one could imagine Draco’s disgruntlement when she suddenly stood in front of his door at Grimmauld Place with an unreadable look on her face, one late night in October. Before he could say or do anything, he was pushed back inside, Pansy entering Potter’s house as if it was her own. She was quiet for an excruciating amount of time, just glaring at him with an emotion Draco couldn’t quite place. </p><p>Then she shoved him, hard. </p><p>“I can’t believe you would do this!” she yelled. <em> Ah</em>, Draco thought, this was about Blaise, then. He sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.</p><p>“Like, yes, I know you hate me now and you have no reason to do anything for me, but Blaise, Draco? For fuck’s sake!” </p><p>Draco shook his head.</p><p>“I don’t hate you,” he said calmly. He didn’t, really. He’d been mad, furious at her for a long time, but eventually all his rage had dissipated, succumbed to time and perspective. Pansy had merely tried to save her own skin, and she’d felt betrayed by Draco; someone who’d been her friend since they were children. He couldn’t really blame her for that. He’d been the same, once. </p><p>“No? Well you got a hell of a way of showing it!” </p><p>“What do you want, Pansy?” </p><p>She stared at him for a long moment before shaking her head, visibly deflating.</p><p>“I… I guess I just want my friend back.”</p><p>“Why?” Draco asked flatly.</p><p>Pansy threw up her hands in frustration.</p><p>“Because we used to be so close, Draco! And then you pulled away from us without any warning, you kept hanging around Gryffindors all of a sudden… and you stopped talking to me. You never told me anything important anymore. Then you disappeared for <em> months</em>, and we thought you were <em> dead </em> or something, and then you show up in bloody Gryffindor robes like Potter’s sidekick or something. You replaced us! You replaced <em> me </em> ! So yeah, I lashed out, and it was a mistake I regret every day. But you resent me for it, don’t you? You finally got what you wanted with Potter, and there I go trying to ruin it. I get it. But I tried, Draco. I tried talking to you, I <em> apologised</em>. But you never responded, and then you go and <em> fuck </em> my boyfriend as some sort of punishment?” </p><p>Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. They really shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway. </p><p>“Would you like to come in?” he said, gesturing towards the kitchen. Pansy looked startled for a moment, then nodded. </p><p>He led her to the kitchen, idly putting on the kettle while she sat down at the table.</p><p>“When Potter offered me a way out… I didn’t think you would understand,” he started quietly, busying his shaking hands with the cups he fetched from the cupboard. He hated every second of this, but he knew it was long overdue. “It wasn’t so much that I didn’t trust you, I just thought you wouldn’t understand and I didn’t want you to get involved. You knew they’d made me take the mark, even though I didn’t say. Things were… difficult. And I suppose in a way it felt like I had to choose between you and Potter. I started resenting it all. My father. All those pureblood values he’d taught me. The arrogance. And you were part of that. I had to rip myself away by force, or otherwise I knew I might not make it. At first I only tried to save my own skin, save my mother. But somewhere along the way it became bigger than me. It was Potter… and it was the world he tried to save. <em> Our </em> world. I suppose you could say I grew a conscience somewhere between being brandished by a bunch of murderers and being tortured for not being able to cast a Cruciatus. It was all a scam, Pans. All our lives they told us we were superior, because we were Purebloods, the <em> better sort</em>. But one misstep, one sign of weakness, and they would’ve killed us without a moment’s hesitation. I was put under the Cruciatus in one line with Muggles and Muggleborns. It didn’t matter how pure my blood was. They just wanted me to be their mindless puppet. The Dark Lord himself wasn’t even a Pureblood, and yet they all bowed to him, all groveled at his feet despite the way he humiliated them. It didn’t make much sense, did it? There was no glory in it.”</p><p>The water was boiling now, so Draco poured two cups and carried them over to the table, sitting down across from Pansy. </p><p>“Potter wasn’t like that. He’s stupidly self-righteous and kind in a selfless sort of way you wouldn’t even believe. He never gives up. He’s got that infuriating relentlessness when he puts his mind to something. He blames himself when he can’t save everyone, as if it’s his responsibility. He never wants any praise. He <em> detests </em> it; being famous, all the attention he gets. And he is all that without anyone ever teaching him. He grew up with the most horrible sort of Muggles, did you know? They made him sleep in a <em> cupboard</em>. And yet… and yet he always knew to do the <em> right thing</em>. He didn’t become resentful or bitter. Instead he’s compassionate and kind and stupidly brave. How could I not…” Draco looked up to meet Pansy’s eyes for the first time. They were wide and watery. </p><p>“How could I not choose him?” he finished quietly. </p><p>The kitchen filled with silence that lasted for half a cup of tea. Pansy considered him carefully, silent tears running down her cheeks. </p><p>“You love him,” she said eventually. It wasn’t a question. “Draco Malfoy. You absolute <em> arsehole.</em> You fucking <em> love </em> Harry Potter. You’re bloody in love with him.”</p><p>She shook her head, an uncharacteristically fond smile on her lips.</p><p>“Of course you are.” </p><p>Draco merely smiled into his cup. He didn’t quite understand why that particular realisation hit her just then, but she wasn’t wrong. Salazar knew why; he still didn’t. </p><p>“I mean… obviously I knew you had this weird obsession with him, and I’m not an idiot, I saw the picture in the <em> Prophet </em>. I just didn’t think… but you really love him.” </p><p>Draco hummed. Pansy’s face suddenly darkened again, and he braced himself. </p><p>“Why did you fuck Blaise, then?”</p><p>Pansy glared and Draco averted his eyes.</p><p>“I don’t know. Potter thinks we need to grow individually before committing to a relationship with each other. Spoken like some sodding mind healer, I know. He does have a point, though, I suppose. I don’t want to hold him on a short leash and then lose him because all we’ve ever known was war and desperation, or ridiculous schoolboy squabbles. I know this, but I still… well, I’m a bitter bastard, aren’t I? Potter’s off travelling the world and flirting with strangers and I’m here just trying to get a single night of sleep for once. I’m messed up. So Blaise came over after you’d broken up and we talked, and we got drunk, and I just… felt lonely. Pathetic. It just happened. I don’t know. It didn’t mean anything. It only made me miss Potter more. But I suppose it was something I needed to get out of my system, anyway. To be... <em> sure.</em>” </p><p>There was another long pause, and by the time Pansy spoke, Draco had finished his tea. </p><p>“He came to me right after. Said he was sorry, and that he loved me. That screwing you showed him that. We’re back together now, so actually I should thank you, really. I had to pester him for the entirety of last week to give me your address, though. This is Potter’s house, isn’t it?” </p><p>Draco nodded. </p><p>“I can’t be at the manor anymore.” </p><p>Pansy hummed. </p><p>“You should talk to him. Blaise. He feels horrible about the whole thing. It’s actually rather pathetic.” </p><p>Draco nodded again. He knew he should, if only for the selfish reason of having it off his shoulders, too. </p><p>“Thanks, Pans,” he said after a moment. “For coming over.”</p><p>“Thanks for finally hearing me out, you great pale idiot.” </p><p>Pansy stood up, came around the table and-- slapped him in the face. <em> Alright. </em> </p><p>“That’s for fucking my boyfriend and being a shit friend.” </p><p>Then she hugged him, awkwardly pressing his head against her breasts. <em> Alright.  </em></p><p>“And that’s because we just made up.” </p><p>Draco laughed and stood up to hug her properly. His chest felt significantly lighter than it had in a very long time.</p><p>“I did miss you, Pans,” he said. </p><p>“I missed you, too, arsehole.” </p><p>Oh, it was so good to have a Slytherin friend again.</p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>He met Blaise at a Muggle park near Grimmauld Place. There were dogs running around, barking as they chased each other, the sky slowly darkening as it was getting rather late. He’d firecalled Blaise on a whim, suddenly overcome by the urge to set things right between them. Blaise had left in the middle of the night after their drunken fumblings, leaving Draco feeling empty and miserable. They hadn’t talked since. </p><p>When Blaise had sent him an owl asking for his whereabouts after his breakup with Pansy, Draco had been delighted. They hadn’t gotten a chance to talk since the fiendfyre, and it had been good to finally talk to someone who wasn’t a Gryffindor. </p><p>But they’d both been lonely and miserable, and drunk off their arses after a few hours, so things had gotten out of hand. Draco couldn’t even remember how it had happened, now. They’d been laughing about something or other, and then they’d been making out on the couch. Potter’s couch. Draco felt filthy just thinking about it.</p><p>Sleeping with Blaise had done the job, no doubt, but it had been a rather miserable affair for sure. Nothing he ever wanted to repeat.</p><p>Shuddering, Draco sat up straighter and watched Blaise approach, making his way through a pack of dogs. </p><p>“Hey, mate,” Blaise said casually when he reached Draco’s bench, flopping down like they weren’t about to have an uncomfortably awkward conversation. </p><p>“Hello,” Draco said stiffly. </p><p>Blaise clapped him on the back and Draco flinched. Laughing, Blaise shoved him for good measure, and Draco felt himself relax a little. Maybe this didn’t have to quite as horrible as Draco had feared. </p><p>“So, Pansy tells me you’ve been rather worked up about our little one night stand.” </p><p>Draco nearly spluttered. Nearly. Alright then. Blaise wasn’t beating around the bush. </p><p>“Well, she told me<em> you </em> were feeling horrible about the whole thing, so…” </p><p>“That little minx,” Blaise said fondly. </p><p>“Yeah…” Drago agreed. Had Pansy only wanted them to talk so they could all get along again?</p><p>“Look. I know you’re completely gone for Potter. I’ve seen you with him. Completely and utterly gone. I love Pansy. I do. So… that night we were just two drunk, miserable fuckers letting off some steam. It wasn’t a big deal, was it?” </p><p>Draco blinked. He’d genuinely thought this would be one of the more horrendous conversations of his life. It seemed that he’d been working himself up for no reason again. </p><p>“No, I… I agree. Merlin, I thought this would be more difficult.” </p><p>Blaise clapped him on the back again and shrugged.</p><p>“Not everything has to be. What kind of boring friends would we be if we hadn’t fucked at least once? At least now we know.” </p><p>Blaise laughed, and Draco couldn’t help joining. Another weight lifting itself off his chest and flying away into the sunset. </p><p>“Right, now that that’s all cleared up, let’s get out of here. I need a beer, and I want to hear all about what you did to make Potter kiss amok in Greece.” </p><p>Draco made a face. He was going to kill Pansy. </p><p>“That little minx!” </p><p>Blaise was already off the bench and two steps ahead. He turned around, laughing.</p><p>“Told you.” </p><p> </p><p>++H++</p><p> </p><p>Harry stared at his phone, but the black pixels would not change their shapes and would not generate a new message either. Kissing all those strangers had only made him miss Draco more, and frankly, he was fucking miserable. He knew, rationally, that he’d made the right decision for them, but his heart seemed to disagree. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>I miss you too, Harry.</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>It was the last he’d heard from Draco after his kissing rampage, just over a week ago now. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. It had been fun, yeah, but part of him wondered if he’d only tried to get back at Draco for sleeping with Zabini. Even though Harry had given him explicit permission to… well. Maybe part of him had also believed Draco when he’d said he was too much of a social pariah to find anyone. It was stupid, really. Harry didn’t want them to jump into a committed relationship when they were only 18 and fresh out of a war, but he didn’t want to share Draco either. He would have to figure it out. </p><p>At least the emotional turmoil about his love life kept his nightmares at bay, somewhat. </p><p>Waking up sweating at night, the horror of his dreams still making his heart race, feeling heavy with the weight of guilt and grief and regret; those were the moments when he missed Draco the most. They’d spent three months practically living together, sharing a bed for the vast majority of the nights, holding each other close whenever one of them startled awake from a nightmare. Every night, almost. </p><p>Now Harry could barely remember why he’d thought travelling alone would be a good idea. He’d seen quite a lot and met so many different people, and it had been good to get away from everything at home. But at night he felt the loneliness seep into his bones, and he wondered if it was all just another one of his self-destructive streaks. Maybe he should be in therapy instead, like Draco. Maybe he should be with his friends, like Draco. </p><p> </p><p>The decision was quickly made. </p><p> </p><p>Early the next morning he arrived in London via portkey, immediately apparating home from the portkey station. Every fibre of his being was itching to be there, to be back where he belonged. </p><p>Draco almost jumped to the ceiling when Harry appeared in the kitchen with a loud crack, the cup he’d been holding shattering on the floor with a bang. </p><p>“Potter! What the fuck!” Draco cried, staring. His grey eyes were wide, his skin flushed, and his mouth slightly agape.</p><p>Harry almost cried. He quickly crossed the room and pulled Draco into a tight hug, burying his nose in his neck and breathing in his familiar scent. Draco hugged him back, seemingly on instinct. Fuck, it was so good to be back in his arms. </p><p>“Is everything alright?” Draco asked, carefully peeling Harry away from him to meet his eyes. Harry hadn’t even realised he’d started sobbing. “What are you doing here?” </p><p>Draco reached out to brush a few stray strands of hair out of Harry’s eyes, his fingertips cool on his skin. He looked concerned, eyes soft and caring. Harry cried just a little harder. </p><p>“I’m okay, now,” Harry said, voice weak, “I just missed you.” </p><p>Draco eyed him a bit dumbly. </p><p>“You came back because you missed me?”</p><p>“Yeah. You got a problem with that?” Harry removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes. When he looked back up, Draco was grinning rather brilliantly. </p><p>“No. Not at all.” </p><p>And then Draco kissed him, and the world slotted back into place. </p><p> </p><p>Some hours or minutes later, Harry couldn’t really tell, they were sprawled on the kitchen floor, both panting heavily. Harry was resting on top of Draco, face buried under his chin. He had almost forgotten how good he smelled. One hand buried in Draco’s fine blond hair, he let the other rest on Draco’s bare chest, right next to his face, his thumb idly brushing over one of the pale scars there. </p><p>“Are you staying?” Draco asked quietly. He sounded like he’d been working up the courage to ask. </p><p>“For a bit, I think. I still want to travel, but… I don’t want to be a miserable twat missing you and my friends the whole time. Portkeys take seconds; there is no need for me to be away constantly. I can pop in and out.” </p><p>Draco hummed. Harry could feel him smiling into his hair. </p><p>“I’m very agreeable to this plan.” </p><p>In one smooth movement, he flipped them over and straddled Harry’s hips. He let his fingers trace the outlines of his drawing tattooed onto Harry’s ribcage. Harry felt his skin break into goosebumps at the touch of his cool fingertips. </p><p>“Show me,” he breathed. “Your Patronus.” </p><p>Draco looked up to meet Harry’s eyes, tilting his head. </p><p>“Alright,” he said. “<em>Accio wand! </em>” </p><p>Draco’s wand flew into his outstretched hand, and Harry made a bit of a choked noise.</p><p>“Fuck, I love it when you do wandless magic.”</p><p>“Got a bit of a power kink, do we?” Draco’s tongue poked out between his teeth in that adorable way it sometimes did, and Harry thought he was close to just melting into a puddle right there on the kitchen floor because he felt so intensely about the stupid Slytherin. </p><p>“Yeah, well, at least I haven’t got a praise kink, Draco Malfoy, <em> oh mighty wizard</em>.” </p><p>Draco visibly shuddered, biting his lip.</p><p>“Alright, point taken.” </p><p>They grinned at each other for a moment or two, before Harry shoved Draco into action. </p><p>He raised his hands in surrender, then pointed his wand just between Harry’s head and the kitchen table. </p><p>“<em>Expecto Patronum! </em>”</p><p>The way Draco looked just the moment when his Patronus erupted from his wand nearly took Harry’s breath away. He looked powerful and vulnerable at the same time, perched on Harry’s hips, stark naked and illuminated by the blue-ish glow of the Patronus charm. His pale skin and silvery hair took on a hue of blue, and he looked so beautiful, his scars a reminder of all the things they’d endured together, all the battles they’d fought. He was humming <em> Landslide </em> by Fleetwood Mac under his breath, Harry faintly noticed. </p><p>Harry never wanted to leave him again. Not for longer than a few weeks at a time anyway. Turning his head, he looked at he glowing stag Draco had conjured, tears prickling in his eyes. It really looked almost like his own, the antlers angled and formed just slightly different than Harry’s. </p><p>“Can you get my wand?” Harry asked, unable to keep the wonder from his voice.</p><p>“<em>Accio Harry’s wand! </em>” The wand made its way into Draco’s free hand as easy as breathing. </p><p>“The fact that you can do two spells at once…” Harry nearly choked again.</p><p>Draco chuckled. </p><p>“Save it for later, Potter,” he said as he handed Harry his wand. </p><p>Harry shook his head, pointing his wand.</p><p>“<em>Expecto Patronum! </em>” </p><p>His own familiar stag erupted from his wand, joining Draco’s at the other end of the kitchen. The glowing forms of their Patronuses circled each other, snouts touching softly as if they were eager to get to know each other. As if they were feeling their connection. </p><p>“Be my boyfriend, please,” Harry blurted, eyes turning back to meet Draco’s. </p><p>Draco gaped, the glow of his Patronus slowly subsiding. </p><p>“I was under the assumption you said we weren’t ready to commit to a relationship?” </p><p>Harry propped himself up on his elbows and tilted his head.</p><p>“Changed my mind.” </p><p>Draco raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Oh? How come?”</p><p>“I’m not keen on sharing,” Harry admitted. </p><p>Humming, Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips. </p><p>“Yeah… Neither am I.” </p><p> </p><p>++D++</p><p> </p><p>“Draco Malfoy, you know I don’t appreciate you being late to--” </p><p>With a start, Draco was roused from the best sleep he’d had in <em> months </em>as Hermione Granger’s shrill voice pierced his eardrums. Blinking, he sat up, her slim form and bushy brown hair slowly coming into focus. </p><p>“What the fuck?” he groaned groggily. Next to him, Potter released a soft noise of discontentment. Right. Harry had come back to him. He’d almost given him a heart attack in the kitchen the day before, had cried into his neck, and then they’d had sex on the floor, conjured their Patronuses as some sort of afterplay and then Harry had asked him to be his boyfriend. Right. And then they’d spent the rest of the day listening to Muggle music, eating irrationally delicious Muggle food, cuddling on the couch and having sex a few times in between until they went to bed and, apparently, both managed to sleep through the night for once. </p><p>And now Hermione was standing in their bedroom, hands on her hips and a deep blush on her face. </p><p>“Harry is back?” she asked dumbly. Upon hearing his name, Harry seemed to regain consciousness too, slowly blinking himself awake. </p><p>“It would appear so,” Draco drawled. </p><p>“Hermione?” Harry muttered, barely even awake yet.</p><p>“Why didn’t you say you were coming back!” Hermione’s voice was still considerably too shrill for this early in the morning, even though Draco admittedly had no idea what time it was. </p><p>“Uh… It was very last minute, really,” Harry said, slowly waking up now. </p><p>Draco grinned dumbly, he knew. </p><p>“He missed his <em> boyfriend</em>,” he announced completely unnecessarily. Hermione’s brilliant, knowing smile was worth it, though. </p><p>“<em>Boyfriend </em> ? Well, kudos to you both. Aw, <em> splendid!</em> Finally,” she cheered. Harry gave Draco a curious look, but Draco merely shrugged. </p><p>“Maybe you should go and confess your undying love to Weasley as well, then.” </p><p>“<em> Ron </em>?” Harry raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between Hermione and Draco. “Did you two finally get your shit together?” </p><p>Draco snorted. Hermione blushed a bit more. </p><p>“Well, yes. No. I mean… we did kiss, in the Chamber of Secrets when we got the basilisk fang. And a few times since. But… well, I wasn’t sure… I didn’t want us to be born out of battle, you know?” </p><p>“Oh,” Harry said, glancing at Draco, “Well, that sounds like a valid reason. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, though.” He narrowed his eyes. “Especially since it seems Draco knew.” </p><p>Hermione did have the decency to look somewhat guilty, even though Draco thought she was perfectly entitled to pick and choose whom she was sharing which piece of information about her personal life with. This time it just happened to be him who’d been picked above Potter. Hah.</p><p>“Well, we’ve just been spending a lot of time together lately, is all…” Hermione explained. Harry looked pained. </p><p>“Why do I feel like I have been replaced?” </p><p>Hermione gasped.</p><p>“Harry! I would <em> never </em> replace you! It just didn’t come up, I <em> swear</em>…”</p><p>Harry shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face almost out of nowhere. He raised his hands in surrender and leaned over to place a kiss on Draco’s cheek.</p><p>“It’s okay, ‘Mione. I’m actually glad you two get along so well.” </p><p>Hermione looked delighted, which, somehow, pleased Draco immensely. He did like to be Hermione Granger’s friend. It was very…</p><p>“Intellectually stimulating,” Hermione provided. Yes. Draco wasn’t sure what she’d said before those two words, but he assumed it was something along the lines of “Draco’s company”. </p><p>Harry raised his eyebrows and looked between the two of them before bursting into laughter. Draco met Hermione’s eyes, but she merely shrugged, a smile playing around her lips.</p><p>“You two really found each other, didn’t you? <em> Intellectually stimulating.” </em>Harry scoffed.</p><p>There was a moment of silence, all three of them grinning stupidly, before Hermione cleared her throat, eyes wandering over the duvet covering Harry and Draco. </p><p>“Anyway. I’m gonna leave you two to get dressed but I’ll be waiting downstairs.”</p><p>When Draco and Harry both looked at her a bit dumbly, she added, “Your tattoo appointment, Draco. Remember?” </p><p>“Oh!” Right. That was today. Well. Some exciting news at last. </p><p> </p><p>++H++</p><p> </p><p>Harry made sure to return home at least every second weekend after his dramatic reunion with Draco. His<em> boyfriend</em>. It still felt a little weird to think about him as such, but at the same time it felt like the most natural thing Harry had ever been part of. Well, aside from his friendship with Ron and Hermione, maybe. A friendly, rather bubbly witch he met in New York City and that reminded him of Luna asked him about Draco when he was three beers into the night and laughing heartily at a joke the bartender had made. She had tried to hit on him, but Harry had told her that he had a boyfriend he had every intention to be faithful to now.</p><p>“Monogamy, eh?” she’d asked, and Harry had merely ogled her curiously until she said “Nevermind.” and asked him about his boyfriend instead. So, somehow, Harry ended up telling her the whole story. Their schoolboy rivalry, Draco’s involvement with Voldemort by proxy of his parents at first until he was dragged in himself, Harry’s weird obsession with him, tracking him all through sixth year because he’d known the git was up to something, his attempts at getting Draco to switch sides, the bathroom incident, his eventual success in changing Draco’s mind, how Draco had actually started doubting his allegiances long before that, heated kisses behind tapestries and hidden in alcoves and abandoned classrooms, the year they’d been separated because Harry was a notorious idiot, how they’d fallen in love during a war, how Draco had been braver than anyone ever expected of him,... Well, Harry thought he probably went on about Draco’s qualities for quite a long time, judging by the expression on the girl’s face. </p><p>“Sounds like quite the love story you got there,” she said when he finished. They’d both finished their drinks by the time he was done. “So what brings you to New York, then?” </p><p>“I’m kind of trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I’m kind of… <em> famous </em>, back at home, so I just needed to get away for awhile…” Julia, was it? reached out to brush Harry’s fringe out of his face, peering at his scar.</p><p>“Thought so,” she said knowingly. </p><p>Harry blushed. </p><p>“Please don’t sell my story to a newspaper,” he muttered, and Julia burst into laughter. She ordered two Firewhiskey shots from the bar and placed one in front of Harry. </p><p>“Cheers to that,” she said, downing the brown liquid.</p><p>“Cheers!” Harry agreed. </p><p> </p><p>Julia didn’t sell his story to a newspaper. Harry told Draco about her the next time he saw him, and Draco merely shook his head and called him ridiculous and “too trusting.” They were getting close to Christmas now, and Harry was happy to be back in London in time to stroll through the decorated streets, lights and trees illuminating the dark wherever he went. He took Draco to a Christmas market, feeding him roasted almonds and mulled wine and laughing in delight when Draco had no idea how to move on a pair of ice skates. He ended up falling on his arse more times than he would ever admit, and Harry kissed him stupid once they were back at Grimmauld Place, limbs cold and noses red. </p><p>“I never thought I would get to do this,” Harry said as he was placing feather light kisses all over Draco’s December-cold face. </p><p>“What? Salivating all over my face?” </p><p>Harry glared and slapped Draco’s arm.</p><p>“I can stop, you know?” </p><p>Draco pulled him back down.</p><p>“Don’t you dare!” </p><p>Smiling, Harry resumed his kissing and hummed contently.</p><p>“I just meant… having a Christmas without any threats or locked in a cupboard or my room. Just… having a proper Christmas, I suppose.” </p><p>Draco bit his lip. </p><p>“Well, the last two Christmases were complete shit for me as well. This is my first without my parents, though. I doubt mother will want to leave the manor, and there is no way I’m spending my holidays there.” </p><p>“You’re coming to the Burrow, right?” </p><p>“I can’t imagine mother-Weasel letting me live past the holidays if I didn’t, to be honest.” </p><p>Knowing Molly, Draco was probably right. That woman was a menace once she’d set her mind to something. </p><p>“I believe that in a second. That woman is as stubborn as she is powerful,” Harry agreed. A plan was forming in his mind as he let his eyes wander over Draco’s sharp angles, only illuminated by the moon and the street lights shining in from outside. He let his fingers trace the intricate patterns of his tattoo sleeve, snakes wrapping their way around the original snake, a stag looking like Harry’s Patronus standing close by, majestically outshining the dark snake and the skull, making them look small. There were flowers, too, roses filling in the blanks, beautifully growing through the gaps between the snakes and making a flowery field for the stag to stand in. A crescent moon was setting a mood to the scene, giving Harry flashbacks to detentions spent at the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. The time Draco had been forced to join them in first year. He’d been an awfully spoiled kid back then, scaredy and snobbish. Harry remembered just how little he could stand him back then; but that boy was a far cry from the man sharing his bed now. He’d come a long way, further than all of them.</p><p> </p><p>Harry made sure to pop by the Burrow before he left for his last trip before Christmas. He was going to Iceland, eager to see the aurora borealis. He’d pestered Draco all week to join him, but the tosser wouldn’t budge, insisting that he wouldn’t accept any special treatment. The Wizarding World needed to see that he was serious about making amends for his family’s mistakes. They could just go again next year, he’d said. So Harry had left him behind at Grimmauld Place again, albeit reluctantly, and secretly flooed to the Burrow before his portkey was due. </p><p>Molly was positively delighted to see him, pulling him in a motherly hug and sitting him down to feed him cake and biscuits. Harry eyed her a bit nervously, unsure about how to approach the topic. Molly though, bless her heart, saw right through him. </p><p>“What is it, Harry? What’s on your mind?” she asked softly. Harry chewed his lip, finger tracing the edge of his cup of tea. </p><p>“It’s about Draco.” </p><p>“Oh! I haven’t seen that boy in a few weeks, I hope he is doing okay? Things are so hard on him, but he’s holding himself admirably. Hermione would not shut up about him, says he’s terribly smart and making a big effort with Muggle culture! Even Ron seems to have warmed up to him. His mother must be so proud.” </p><p>“That’s actually what I was hoping to talk about,” Harry said, “See, he mentioned this being the first Christmas he’s spending without his parents. He said Narcissa is likely not leaving Malfoy manor, but that house just holds too many bad memories for him. He would never admit it, but I think he’s more upset about it than he lets on. So I was wondering…” </p><p>“If I could talk to his mother and persuade her to spend Christmas here with us?” Molly said kindly. She seemed to think about it for a moment, small frown disappearing as quickly as it had appeared on her freckle covered forehead. “I suppose it would do no harm. She has served the punishment given to her by the Wizengamot and she did save Ginny’s life. Surely things have been hard enough on her and Draco. After the year we’ve all had, no family should be separated over the holidays. Yes. I will talk to her. This might also be an opportunity to make peace at last, if she is so willing.” </p><p>Molly sounded more like she tried to convince herself as she went along, but Harry couldn’t blame her. There was a lot of bad blood and problematic history between the families, after all. But Draco had told him enough about Narcissa Malfoy that Harry had no doubt she would be happy to accept Molly’s outstretched hand. Her taste in a husband might be severely misguided, but she was a loving mother and had made her own sacrifices to keep Draco safe. She wasn’t irredeemable; and it was a quality that had kept her from Azkaban in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>And so it came that Narcissa was already at the Burrow, comfortably chatting with Andromeda Tonks when Harry and Draco arrived on Christmas day. They were sisters, Harry faintly remembered. Teddy Lupin was perched on Narcissa’s lap, happily grabbing for strands of her silvery dyed hair as she smiled at the toddler like she couldn’t be more delighted to be in his presence. Harry hadn’t seen Teddy in a while and he was almost taken aback by how much he had grown. His hair was bright blue, a gift inherited from his mother, but his features were stunningly similar to Remus, who was sitting at the other end of the table playing Exploding Snap with Fred and George. Harry knew being a single father was hard on him, and he wished he could be a more constant presence in his godson’s life, but what kind of an influence would he be if he could barely handle himself? He would be there, eventually, when his wounds didn’t feel quite so life threatening anymore, when peaceful nights became the majority, when it felt a little easier to be himself again. </p><p>“Mother?” Draco’s eyes were wide, and as he stood there in the ridiculous Christmas jumper Harry had made him wear, a pile of presents tucked under his arm, growing hair neatly combed with a few deliberate strands falling over his eyes and an expression of unadulterated delight on his face, he looked so young and unscathed, it almost took Harry‘s breath away. </p><p>“Draco! My boy.”</p><p>Narcissa handed Teddy over to his grandmother and stood up, hurrying across the room to pull Draco into a stiff but no less loving hug.</p><p>“Don’t you look handsome?” </p><p>She looked him all over almost as if she was searching for any hidden injuries as mothers did, Harry had noticed. “I like your hair like this. Longer,” she said. Harry agreed. It made Draco look less stern, less pointy and snobbish. </p><p>“Mother, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you would be here!” Draco glanced suspiciously over at Harry, but he merely shrugged and grinned, leaning over to politely kiss Narcissa’s cheeks. </p><p>“Molly kindly invited me. She said it would be a shame for us to spend the holidays apart, and I must say I do agree.” </p><p>“Hello, Narcissa,” he said, “It’s been awhile.” </p><p>“Oh, Harry! Indeed, it has been way too long! Draco tells me you have been travelling a lot?” </p><p>Harry nodded. </p><p>“Quite. It’s been good to get out for a bit.” </p><p>Before their conversation could go on, however, they were suddenly surrounded by their friends who’d noticed their arrival, exchanging hugs and kisses, and pulling them into a bubble of laughter and chatter and general <em> warmth </em> that Harry hadn’t felt in a long time. </p><p> </p><p>++D++ </p><p> </p><p>A few hours later, tipsy on mulled wine and warm on love in a way Draco had never felt before, he pulled Harry to the side and kissed him stupid, pressing him hard against one of the many wayward walls in the house. </p><p>“You planned this! You ridiculous man. You made my mother come here.”</p><p>“I take it this is a thank you in the contextual native language of Draco Malfoy?” Harry pulled away a little and waggled his eyebrows. </p><p>Draco ignored him.</p><p>“I haven’t seen her this happy in… well, years probably. She spoke about her wish to reconnect with Andromeda and I’m afraid she didn’t know how to approach the whole family reunion business. Saint Potter to the rescue.” </p><p>Draco grinned stupidly, because Harry was smiling at him, and he’d made his mother happy, he had brought them all together for the holidays and it was infuriating just how <em> good </em> he was. He was a right idiot, but when it came to the things that really mattered, he could always trust the git to make the right decision. </p><p>He looked cocky now, head tilted slightly, the dimly lit, narrow corridor making his bone structure look sharper, his jawline more pronounced. He was so bloody beautiful in that unassuming way of his, dark hair messy as ever, eyes brilliantly green behind his shabby glasses. The look of him filled Draco with a deep rooted fury that swirled together with the butterflies under his ribcage and the feeling was so intense, Draco felt like he might as well explode with the force of it. </p><p>“I’m so bloody in love with you, Potter, you wanker. I wanna punch you in the face and then kiss it better,” he growled. </p><p>For a split second, Harry looked taken aback by his outburst, but he quickly regained his composure, a stupid smile forming on his lips. </p><p>“Aww, Draco. That’s so romantic.” He <em> giggled</em>. It was horrendous. “What’s up with your language? You sound like Ron.” </p><p>Draco shrugged, searching for the nervousness he’d expected to find right around the second time he expressed his affections to Harry. </p><p>“Hung around the git too much while you were gone. So it’s your fault I’ve gone complete peasant, really.” </p><p>“Is it now?” Potter asked teasingly, eyebrows raised and smirk pulling at his lips. Draco hated him, so he eyed him incredulously. </p><p>“Potter, I’m not sure if it slipped your mind but I just confessed my love to you and you want to talk about Weasley’s language patterns?” </p><p>Potter had the audacity to <em> shrug</em>. </p><p>“Maybe?” </p><p>Draco glared. Potter laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. </p><p>“Alright, alright.” He cleared his throat, schooled his features and met Draco’s eyes. There was something soft in his stupid green eyes, even through the gleaming mischief that told a clear story of how he was absolutely up to no good at all. </p><p>“Draco. I have kissed many princes and princesses along my long and most arduous journey this past year, but none of them captivated my senses quite like you. I have found that you, and only you, are the fond object of my affection. Not only am I unfathomably infatuated with you, you’re also my heart’s deepest desire. Draco Malfoy, I would hereby like to declare my ardent love to you.” </p><p>Harry started <em> giggling </em> again like an idiot the moment he finished his ridiculous announcement in an even more ridiculous fake posh accent while Draco sighed dramatically, a big smile already forming on his lips. </p><p>“You’re so full of shit, Potter,” he said much more fondly than he’d aimed for, shoving Harry‘s shoulder. </p><p>“Hey! I learned all those big posh words for you and this is what I get?” Harry pouted.</p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him close, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. </p><p>“You are the most ridiculous man I have ever known, Harry Potter,” he said fondly, throwing all his pretences our the metaphorical window. </p><p>“But I suppose I deserved that. Don’t get me wrong, I do want to punch you in your stupidly beautiful face. But I also love you. So there’s that.” </p><p>Harry grinned and leaned in to kiss Draco softly on the lips. </p><p>“I love you, too, arsehole” he said quietly, his breath ghosting over Draco’s lips. “I really do.” When he captured them again with his own, Draco thought that maybe if he was a ridiculous prince in some stupid fairytale, he would probably float above the ground with the force of the sheer <em> bliss </em> filling his chest. But he wasn’t, so he stayed on the ground and tightened his arms around Harry. </p><p>All was not well, but some things in life, Draco had found, made the suffering worth it all the same. Glory and wealth and power, he would’ve said once, with a heart secretly full of pain and resentment. Love and friendship, he said now, heart full of warmth and the feeling that he belonged somewhere, just the way he was, a little bit broken, mistakes and regrets and all. </p><p> </p><p>++ FIN ++ </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>stay tuuuned for the epilogue</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. epilogue: you found your place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title from "Safe" by All Time Low.</p><p>Thank you all so much! This is it. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>May 2nd, 2008  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The cool wind of the highlands swept through Draco’s hair as he let his eyes wander over the vast landscape surrounding Hogwarts. He’d always felt at home between the hills, the gleaming surface of the Great Lake, and the forests around the castle, so detached from the rest of the world, one could believe it was its own universe. He let his hand trail over the smooth surface of the railing around the Astronomy tower and took a deep breath as he looked down, the exact spot where Dumbledore had once fallen to his death. It didn’t fill him with the same dread it once had. </p><p>The anniversary of the battle was always a quiet, subdued affair at Hogwarts. Every year it got a little louder as more survivors of the battle brought their children along, newborns and toddlers filling the deafening silence that had once been. It was good, Draco thought, seeing the fog lift around all of them, even a decade into the future. It would never leave them completely, he knew. It was always there, in the nightmares and the grief that sometimes welled up in the most unlikely moments. Draco could sleep through most nights, now. But others, he still woke up screaming, searing pain like a phantom in his veins. Harry would hold him then, like he always had, and Draco would hold him in turn when his own demons came to haunt him. </p><p>They’d had their ups and downs over the years, but that had always been a constant. They could rely on each other, even when they fought or squabbled, or one of them pushed the other away on a particularly bad day. But those came and went, like everything did, and when the sun rose again they could trust that the other was still there, with a hug or a smile, or even just a cup of tea. </p><p>It was good, their life together. They were both stubborn arseholes, and they were vastly different in a lot of ways, but fitting together like two oddly shaped jigsaw pieces. Draco often wondered why it worked, but it did. He was insanely in love with Harry Potter, even ten years detached from the war, and nine years out of school. </p><p>He often missed those carefree days of their eighth year, filled with freedom and relief, but also that strange sense of nostalgia for the old days, when their kisses were fist fights and their insults exchanged with significantly less affection. It had all led them where they needed to be in the end. For Draco, that meant not only Harry’s bed, but also his position as Pomfrey’s healing assistant with a focus on potions mastery and head of the anti-bullying campaign Hermione had instigated at the school. It hadn’t been his choice, exactly. But Hermione had insisted that he was perfect for the job, and she was hardly ever swayed when she had made up her mind. Draco supposed it was just as well. He could still be a right bastard, but it was far from him to be mean to someone for no reason now. And even ten years later he still felt like he had amends to make. </p><p>Harry worked at Hogwarts, too, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts to kids who nearly fell over themselves trying to please the Great Harry Potter. Draco swore he wasn’t biased when he said Harry might just be the best DADA professor the school had ever seen. He would never admit it to the git’s face, of course, but it was obvious how much Harry enjoyed teaching, and how much heart and soul he put into his lessons. </p><p>They were still living at Grimmauld Place, flooing in and out when they needed to, both reluctant to be at Hogwarts full time again. It was good to have a place that was solely their own with no painful memories etched into its stone walls. </p><p>“I knew I’d find you here,” Ginny said quietly in an attempt to avoid startling him, but Draco jumped anyway. “Sorry. Avoiding the crowds?”</p><p>Draco hummed, looking back out over the lands, early May sun high in the sky. </p><p>“Harry said he’s going to kill you for leaving him alone when everyone is fawning over Jamie. He can’t get a second to himself, and ‘lil Jameson is starting to fuss.” </p><p>“He probably needs a fresh diaper and a <em> Scourgify</em>,” Draco agreed, “I’ll be right back down. I just needed a moment.” </p><p>Ginny raised her hands. “No accusation there intended,” she said lightly. She stepped up to stand next to him, her soft hand squeezing his in a comforting gesture. </p><p>“It’s okay, you know? To get upset, even when everyone else is more interested in the babies and toddlers running around the place.”</p><p>“It’s been 10 years,” Draco said, voice barely more than a whisper. </p><p>“Yeah. Ten years since we survived a fucking <em> war</em>. There is no preset timeline for healing from that. We may never heal completely.”</p><p>Draco nodded, taking a deep breath. </p><p>“Ten years and you’re still too wise for your own good.” </p><p>Ginny laughed, shoving him. </p><p>“And you’re still full of crap. Come on. Your son needs a <em> Scourgify</em>, and your boyfriend needs a good snog after all the doting school acquaintances he just had to please.” </p><p>Draco followed Ginny down to the Great Hall, where he found Harry crowded into a corner by Lavender Brown and the Patil twins, all three women looming over Jamie and making awful cooing noises. It seemed like he’d arrived just in time. </p><p>A look of pure, utter relief washed over Harry’s face when he spotted him. Draco made his way through the flock of women lining up to meet Harry and his son, carefully picking James out of Harry’s arms and cradling him to his chest. The baby was exceptionally calm, considering the clearly dirty diaper and the group of excitable women cooing over him. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d almost think the boy shared Potter’s forgiving genetics instead of his own. The fine silvery blond hair was a dead giveaway, though. They’d actually played <em> rock, paper, scissors </em> over who got to share their genetics first. A Muggle game Harry had taught him a long time ago to settle all sorts of squabbles around their house. Draco’s paper covering Harry’s stone, and that had been that. </p><p>Harry had won the draw about the name, however. </p><p><em> James Sirius Black </em>. They couldn’t come to an agreement about their son’s last name, so they’d comprised on one that meant something to them both, even though neither of them actually shared it. Just another oddity in the long list of oddities that was their life. </p><p>Draco’s name of choice would’ve been <em> Scorpius</em>. But there was time yet. They were only 27, after all. </p><p>“Ginny said you were in need of a snog,” Draco said with a smirk after he’d successfully <em> Scourgified </em>Jamie’s diaper and was now rocking him gently in his arms. He was well aware of the group of women still staring at them excitedly. Harry’s dumb face was answer enough, so Draco leaned over, hand protectively over Jamie’s head, and kissed Harry square on the mouth, shoving his tongue in a bit obscenely to give their audience a show. Harry moaned softly, as if he’d been waiting all day for this, and their fans cheered delightedly. </p><p>“You two are <em> so </em> adorable!” Brown squealed, making Draco cringe. </p><p>“Who would’ve ever thought Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would make such a cute little family back in school,” one of the Patils pointed out. </p><p>“I’d have laughed myself into next week if someone had told me!” the other said. </p><p>“I <em> always </em>knew there was something there,” Brown commented importantly. </p><p>Draco rolled his eyes and cast a wandless <em> Muffliato, </em>kissing Harry again instead of listening to their endless jabber. </p><p>Hermione, bless her heart, started the official ceremony then, asking everyone to take their seats. Draco and Harry flopped down in the front row next to Neville and Ron, who was rocking a fussy Rose on his lap. She was about a year older than Jamie, head full of red Weasley hair and face full of Weasley freckles. Hermione always complained about how little she looked like her and Draco would tell her it was her own fault for reproducing with a Weasley. Their genetics seemed to be impenetrable, judging by the red hair every single other Weasley offspring sported. </p><p>Jamie had fallen asleep in his arms by the time McGonagall stepped onto the makeshift stage, looking like she hadn’t aged a day since the war. </p><p>“10 years ago today, Hogwarts saw its darkest day and its biggest victory in centuries of school history. I think we can all agree that it was a day that fundamentally changed all of our lives forever, for better or worse.” </p><p>She let her eyes wander over the war survivors gathered in the hall, a small smile appearing on her face when she landed on Harry, who wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist and gently caressed Jamie’s head with his free hand. </p><p>“Enemies became friends, and some friends became enemies,” she said. Then, fondly, “Some enemies even became families. Today we want to remember all the friends and potential families that can’t be with us because they gave their lives fighting for our peace and our freedom.” </p><p>Draco’s thoughts flickered to Vincent, who might have been irredeemable, but a friend nonetheless. They flickered to his cousin Nymphadora, whom he’d never got to know. She must have been annoyingly wonderful, though, judging by the delight that was her son Teddy. They flickered to Severus, who’d never gotten a chance to show his true colours to the world, who’d died to protect Draco. He wondered if he would be pleased, seeing him now. Probably not. He was dating a <em> Potter</em>, after all. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he would even marry him, one day. </p><p> </p><p>Gagging, Draco turned his attention back to McGonagall. Being around Gryffindors every day had made him all mushy. Eyes flickering to his sleeping baby son, he swore he would do all in his might to raise him a Slytherin. </p><p>“You just watch out, Potter,” he muttered under his breath. </p><p>Harry perked up, confused, mouthing “What?” and Draco rolled his eyes. </p><p>Yeah. This could not be allowed to continue. Stupid Gryffindors. </p><p> </p><p>(He loved them anyway.) </p><p> </p><p>++ FIN ++ FIN ++</p>
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